Warm
by sweetprincipale
Summary: California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, more details inside!
1. Part I

**Warm **

**By Sweetprincipale**

California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!

**Part I**

Spike swallowed his alcohol, hoping it would warm him up. "Might as well move to effing Alaska," he hissed through clenched teeth as he shivered. He didn't have a thermometer and the telly was static-y with zero reception for the local news, thanks to the freakishly cold winds that were howling around his crypt. The fact that icicles had formed from condensation along the walls was enough to tell him it was below freezing inside his home.

"Pr-probably to do with Hellbitch. Some magical imbalance screwing up the atmosphere and turning Sunnydale into Ice Valley." The bottle was now empty. He was no warmer. He was out of blood, having burned through everything he had, heating it up in the microwave and downing it to stay any sort of warm.

Vamps are already cool to the touch. Frostbite wouldn't kill them. Hypothermia wouldn't kill them. However, extended time in freezing weather could hurt them plenty, damage the human-shell, and healing from such damage was long and painful, not to mention disgusting. He made a snap decision. He was leaving and was going to go bother the Watcher at his flat or in the little shop he owned. It didn't matter if it was only ten in the morning, the sky hadn't seen a bit of sun in three days. "Not gonna find me here, a Spike-icicle," he grumbled, hugging his coat around him more tightly and clutching his car keys in numb fingers.

* * *

"Mom? Mom? Dawn?" Buffy wandered the house in a daze. The heater was noisily pumping, a surreal sound in southern California. "Dawn? Where did they go?"

Buffy stumbled, literally, into the kitchen. Ten. Should she be at class? Mom was at work. Dawn was at school. Where was she supposed to be? Wasn't there something she had to do?

_Patrol. Have to patrol. Have to fight the evil perm-monster that wants to eat my sister. Why is my head so big? _

She found a note on the bathroom mirror.

_"Do not go out. Do not go to class! Go back to bed! It's freezing and you have a fever. If it doesn't break by tonight, I'm taking you to the doctor's."_ Her mother's handwriting was bold and emphatic, filled with lots of underlining.

Last night flooded back to her in jerky motions. She went patrolling, bundled up in layers of coats, sweaters, scarves, and three pairs of socks, cursing the weather gods, if there were any, who had suddenly moved the North Pole to Sunnydale. She met some scabby little minions. There was a big fight. They got a few good blows in, which confused her. Her eye was puffy, her skin was scratched, her hands were bloody- where were her gloves? By the end of the battle, she was just plain confused. Disoriented and pulling off coats and scarves in the middle of a vacant lot, surrounded by dead demons. Suddenly, Xander was there, talking in bubbles, shaking her shoulders and feeling her cheeks with panic in his eyes. Then Giles and her mother were there, not in the lot, in her living room, shoving a thermometer under her tongue and making her put clothes back on. When had she gotten into nothing but a tee-shirt and underwear?

She laughed around the tea they tried to force her to sip. "I might have walked home naked. That would be funny. And embarrassing. I would die. I'm dying. Why is it so hot in here?"

"You might have contracted something that's supernatural. Slayer metabolism will sort it, hopefully. It could even be something human, slayers can get sick, though it's not usually long-lived. In a few days, maximum, you should be fine. However," he had covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and pushed Dawn and her mother behind him, "we mere mortals may not be so lucky and your mother's immune system doesn't need any taxing. Perhaps a hotel for a few days, Joyce?"

"I can't leave Buffy on her own!"

"I'll look after her."

"I'm a big girl! I can look after myself. Now move. I have to potty."

* * *

She walked away from the note, closing the bathroom door. _I told my Watcher I had to potty. Oh, God. Giles saw me in my underwear. Dawn saw me act like a toddler who needs a nap. Dawn will blackmail me for years. If we live that long. If I don't burn to death first. Is there snow outside? There should be snow. I'm going to go for a walk in the snow._

_ I should patrol. It's dark out. Geez, when did it get so late?_

* * *

Of course his ancient car wouldn't start. Its battery refused to play nicely in the cold. Just like him. He'd walk to the shop. Or the flat. Rather go see the Slayer, but she'd be at class. She was pissed at him anyway, post-dumping by the Enormous Hall Monitor. Blaming him. Girl was too good for that spiritless, unfaithful...

Wish my heart would freeze up like the rest of me, he thought, huddling deeper into his coat. Going back to the crypt would be stupid. He had to go to someplace heated, which meant finding someplace full of the living, and at least at the Watcher's, Buffy might stop by. He could say he was there to find out if the cold was related to the supernatural, that was perfectly plausible.

* * *

Another note was taped to the handle of the front door. This one was in her mother's writing and in Gile's neat, precise script. "Do not go out without a coat, hat, and gloves, young lady!" Buffy read in her mother's commanding tones. "Do not go unless it's dire. You're delirious and feverish. You'll get worse, though you might temporarily feel some relief. I'll be over as soon as the shop closes. Drink fluids. Remain indoors if at all possible. Call if you need us." She repeated those words in a terrible mimicry of Giles' accent.

Then she crumpled up the note and walked into the blessed coolness in her bare feet and pajamas, idly twirling a stake. "Heeere, vampires. Here, frost monsters. Come to Buffy!"

* * *

So what if he always took the way past her house? So what if he had lost feeling in his feet? Love's bitch. He was no longer invited into her home. He could go look longingly at it. Maybe the jolt of pain in his chest would distract him from the fact that his ears might shatter from his head any second.

* * *

Buffy decided this whole thing was ludicrous. Sneaking around? That was pointless. People needed to be warned. Vampires were lurking in their town! Everyone was at risk. Even if no vampires were coming to her call. She should call louder. Vampires had good hearing. Good ears. Very, very handsome ears. God, why did Spike have to be a total and utter creep but be so freaking hot looking? Hot looking, cool to the touch. Hm. Vampire fighting would be a good therapy for people with supernatural fevers. Or regular fevers.

Unless they were normal people, then they'd die.

People should be warned. "VAMPIRES ARE REAL! I NEED ONE! FIGHT ME, YOU FANG-Y FREAKS." Buffy stood on the corner of Revello and Magnolia and screamed, head thrown back, unaware of the sweat freezing into an icy sheen under her matted, damp hair.

It worked! Her muddy senses yelled "Vampire!" right before one grabbed her.

"Are you outta your flamin' mind?" Spike hissed, tackling her and pulling her back toward her house, looking around frantically. He clapped a hand to her mouth and smothered her scream of - triumph? Her moan of relief? "Uhhhh- Slayer? You're not dressed for this weather and you've gone insane. I'm usually good with both problems, but-"

"Oh my God! You're perfect. You feel so good!" Buffy struggled limply and to her semi-surprise, Spike instantly released her, hands up and out, indicating he wouldn't harm her, nor even try. She managed to face him and instantly smacked both her palms to his ice-white cheeks. "Ahhhh." Her eyes fluttered closed.

He moaned back. She was on fire, just a few degrees from burning him, but with this damned weather and his prolonged time in a big, stone freezer, she was perfect. He felt warmth begin to painfully prickle back into his body. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sick. Glory's minions are around and I- dizzy now." She pitched forward and he caught her.

As he pulled her upright against him, her moan turned into something purely orgasmic. Spike jumped back as much as he could, even though he'd much rather press up closer. "Shit, Slayer, why-"

"Can't get cool! Burning my skin off, too many clothes, gonna die and burst into flames but then you- you're perfect. Like a big, cold ice pack that's sexy and I can put lots of places at once."

"The whole effing town is an ice pack, you looney," Spike groused, but helped her upright. When she seemed reluctant to let go, rather preferring to cling to him like creeping ivy, he picked her up like a groom sweeping his bride over the threshold. She limply clung to him, arm around his neck, seeking the bare nape, still doing those very evocative moans that suddenly made it hard to walk. But walk he did. "I'm taking you home. You're sick. Fever. Why in the world your mum ever let you-"

"She took Dawn to a hotel. I'm contagious. Or I might be." She looked at him regretfully, confused, sweet eyes. "I shouldn't be near anyone." She started to push off, and he held her.

"I can't catch what you've got. If I could, I'd welcome it about now. I'm about to freeze. Not to death, but to a lot of pain. You're doing me a favor, Luv. First time I've felt even a bit of warmth in three days."

"But I can't be with anyone. Giles shouldn't be near me - but he'll come over." She spoke in thoughts, whatever passed through her head. "Riley left. Slayers are supposed to be alone."

"Yeah, well, so are vamps. Lonely ones, they call us, trying to be poetic. We don't fit in with humans, we don't fit in with demons. Neither do you, Pet."

"I try!"

"Standing barefoot in subzero temps, screaming that vampires are real while brandishing pointy pieces of wood? The only place you'll fit in is the looney bin."

She shivered convulsively. Spike thought she was finally feeling the cold, but then she whimpered. "Don't let them take me back. I don't want to go back."

Protective instincts surged. He walked faster, held her tighter. "Back where?"

"Hospital. Cuffs on my wrists, tied to the bed, and they put needles in me to make me be good, not to see vampires, but I still see them. See you." Her eyes were clouded with tears and her voice was not the one Spike was used to. It belonged to a frightened child, not the woman who could kick his ass and still manage a full day of classes.

"Oh, Precious!" Spike's shocked tone was genuine and he pulled her closer instinctively. "Wankers. What stupid bastards tried to lock -"

"My mom and dad."

He swallowed hard. Nothing more to say. Joyce must've been confused. Must've been years ago. Joyce threw her out when she found out she was a Slayer. He'd been there for that moment. He was suddenly very glad the woman he'd come to like was at a hotel.

"I'm sorry 'bout what I did. I'd never cuff you or put needles in you. Even if you were crazy. 'Less it was a bit of- no, skip that." Sex play scenarios involving handcuffs and teasing games left his mind instantly. Slayers don't like to be restrained. And what idiocy had he tried a few days ago? Trying to chain her up and make her listen, make her see he'd changed? _Fuck._ "Did everything wrong. I always do."

"Me, too." Buffy commiserated. Spike had hustled her back to her house- where she'd left the door wide open. He tried to put her down and she clambered back up him like a cat trying to avoid a pool of water. "Don't put me down yet?"

Stand here on the porch and hold her for an indeterminate length of time? Surely. He agreed. "You warm me up a treat. I'll stand here all day."

"Let's go in. I'm thirsty. My throat is killing me. Is your throat killing you?"

"No, that'd be my utter shock," he said as he wincingly walked through the door with her and didn't get any sort of zap. He guessed the phrase "Let's go in" was enough of an invite.

"I'm not supposed to ask you to touch me. That's wrong. I'm mad at you. And I hate you. I like you sometimes. Don't tell anyone. Why are we out of orange juice?" Buffy pulled him behind her as she pawed weakly in the fridge, keeping her feverish hand in his.

"Sweetheart, I think you need a doctor."

"Giles says it could be supernatural. I fought scabby minion demons and I got their blood all over my hands. I don't know if that's it. Mom took my temperature. I don't know what it was, but she said the f-word. I think Giles did, too."

The two mature ones cursing like sailors? He almost chuckled, but reality set in. "That's not a good thing, Slayer. Means your properly sick. Need to rest, get your fever down."

"Well… you make me feel better. Cooler. You can bring my fever down and I could rest if I wasn't going to burst into flames. If I lay down, can you lay down on me?"

They stared at each other. "Uhhh…"

Buffy shook her head. "I didn't mean…"

"I know!"

"But you're so cold. So, so nice and perfectly bendy and_ cold_."

_Perfectly bendy? That's new. _"Vamps take time to warm back up. It hurts like hell, but it won't kill us."

"But- I'm hot and you're cold. See, lying down- or sitting, whatever, together will be perfect. Because if you have hot water and cold water, you get warm water. Black and white make gray."

"What?"

"I don't know. It was something I thought. I'm saying whatever I think. I bet it was symbolic. Or because you're dressed in black and I have a white shirt."

"I see. I think your mental filter is offline."

"At least I have one." She downed an entire half-gallon of apple juice in front of his amazed eyes. Then shook her head and rubbed her throat. "I'm sick," she snuffled. "Still hot. Still thirsty. And I didn't even offer you any. I'm sorry."

"You're definitely not well. You never apologize to me."

"You never apologize to me, either!" Buffy accused petulantly.

"I did three minutes ago, you cloth-eared- sorry. Look, I did it again!"

"What are you sorry for?" Buffy crossed her arms and glared at him pointedly.

"I'm sorry for hurting you and fighting with you, for trying to kill you, for trying to force you to see how I feel. I'm in love with you-"

"Don't say that!"

"It's true! Don't tell me to lie!"

"But-"

"Look, when they locked you up and told you that you were lying, were they right?"

"No! You know are totally real."

"But almost no one else can see them, yeah? Or they refuse to see what's right in front of them. You can't tell me I don't love you. You can lock me up and call me wrong and crazy, you can stick needles in me and tell me to take it back, but I won't, Buffy. I'm telling you the truth. I don't have a soul. I don't care about that. I know how to love and I love you. I'm not crazy. I'm not wrong, just because you can't see it."

She blinked. A lot. Silently staring and blinking until he wondered if she were about to have a febrile seizure and he moved toward the phone.

Finally, she spoke in a weak voice, almost- regretful? "But I don't love you."

"I know. It's okay. I mean, it hurts, but it's okay. Dru didn't love me like I loved her. Used to it. Where does Joyce keep the liquor? I need another drink. Numbs all sorts of pain." _Heart, mental, physical..._

"Riley left me. He said that I had to love him right then, even after- even after so many icky things happened. If not, he had to go. You're a vampire. You're impatient."

"What? I'm terribly patient!"

"You couldn't wait two whole days to kill me!"

"I'm patient about other things," he insisted, finally finding peach Schnapps in the cabinet in the dining room. "I waited for Drusilla for months, sometimes years. I could wait for you, if you'd like." _Even if you don't, I'll still be waiting._

"Now I can't ask you to help me!" Buffy suddenly whined, slamming her fist into the counter and cracking the formica.

"I'm bloody confused. Why not?" _Shouldn't my patient sort of love make that more likely, not less?_

"If you hug up to me, it'll be in a vampire-in-love way."

"Or not. You wanted to hug up to me, as you so nicely put it. I'd be a fool to do it, Slayer. When your fever breaks, you'll stake me. You might think this is all some ruddy fever-dream." _You might think I was taking advantage. _He could see himself doing all sorts of things that the demon craved, but his heart thought were wrong. _Let me cool you from the inside, Baby? Want this pretty popsicle, Luv? Skin to skin contact is better for this sort of thing._

_I might be better off freezing outside. _

"You're cold. I'm hot. We could- we could have a truce."

"Are you talking to me or yourself?" Spike downed several swallows quickly, starting the painful, full-body shivers of someone who is starting to get warm after overexposure to the cold.

She didn't answer. She found a pen and paper, messily rummaging in a drawer, tossing out whatever she didn't want. "I, Buffy, who am hot- in a fever way- promise not to stake Spike for cooling me down. In exchange, he will get to warm up and he won't hurt me, either. Sign next to my name."

"Sign?" He took the pen, eyebrows aloft. "Slayer, since when do we put truces in writing?"

"Since now! Everyone else left notes today. It's a note-y kind of day." She watched him take the pen, then drop it as his hand spasmed involuntarily. Hesitantly, she put her flushed palm to the side of his neck, making him jump, and then sigh, shoulders doing a long shimmy. "You're _really_ cold."

"I believe the term is 'duh'," he snarked.

"No, I mean- I don't feel good and you don't feel good. That's the best time to make a truce, when both people get what they need out of it. I'm too hot, you're too cold. Go make warm?"

Go make warm. He signed rapidly, nodding, afraid to look up and let his eyes betray him. "Right. Go make warm. How do you want to-"

Buffy plastered herself to him before he even finished the question. Both of them let out long, relieved sighs, taut frozen muscles easing their pain as he cautiously put his arms around her, achey, rushing blood cooling as she found some relief.

"We need to lay down. Not on top of, but full body. Come on."

"You're going to kill me if I come and lay down with you for some sort of full body relief! Even the sound of it-"

"I put it in writing. I'll put it all in writing. Bring the paper!" Buffy stumbled upstairs, slipping out of her baggy pajama bottoms on the way, leaving him staring at cheeks in snug lavender panties as she went to her room.

"Slayer-"

"Are you coming or not?" she asked testily.

"There are so many loaded questions today," he sighed and shivered up the stairs after her.

**To be continued…**

**End Note: Thank you to all the readers who also read my original, spuffy inspired erotica, the CrossRealms Series. The second books of the trilogy is up on Amazon under the name S. C. Principale if you care to read. **


	2. Part II

**Warm **

**By Sweetprincipale**

California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!

**Part II**

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but put your clothes back on."

"No. I'm hot. Too hot. The bed is too hot. We should lay on the floor, but it's too hard and my back hurts."

"Exactly. Luv, you're sick, properly ill, muscle aches and all. Even if you put it in writing, if I lay down with you, you're gonna hate me." _Especially if you're wearing nothing but a long white shirt and purple knickers._

She stubbornly refused to put on the pants he held out, plucking nervously at the neckline of her pajama top. She went to the window and pressed her face to the cool glass. She considered opening it, her fingers dancing on the sill and then she glanced back at the painfully chilled vampire, standing stiff, blue and black veins visible under skin that was snow white. "I know! You can take yours off, too?"

"No! That doesn't solve anything." Spike refused to entertain the idea- at least out loud. It would be worth standing starkers in a blizzard if a naked Slayer was going to slide her body up and down his. And consequently end up all hot and bothered in a way that would later end up lethal, signed bit of paper or not. "What in the world is the matter with you?" he demanded, half to himself, half to the figure practically gyrating against the window.

She suddenly burst into tears. "I don't know!"

_Oh, sod!_ Shades of engagement spells and Drusilla's tantrums flooded back to him. He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her. "I don't know, Precious, I'm sorry. I'm a bad, rude man. Shouldn't have said anything. Nothing is wrong with you but a nasty fever. You do whatever you want to make you feel comfy. I'll take my coat off. Boots off," he spoke as he followed through on his words, still feeling as though ice was painted across his skin.

Buffy nodded gratefully, wiping her eyes. "You know, Slayers aren't always all hard and cold. I feel like that sometimes. I can be warm. I'm super warm."

"I can see that." He could also see that the frosted windows had at least had an effect on one part of her. Hard little nips poked from soft hills through faded, worn cotton. Those hills unceremoniously plastered into his chest and her bare feet slid on top of his with delicate little steps, cautious, then uncaring. She sighed. He fought for a split second and sighed back. "Very warm."

"Fever. But also, nice. You must think I'm nice. Or not. You dated Drusilla. Harmony. Oh my God! Am I like them?"

He chuckled at her horrified tone and patted her back reassuringly. "No, Luv. You're completely, wonderfully different. Why I love you, even though I don't want to."

"You don't want to? Because I'm cold? A bitch?" she sniffled as cloudy, conflicted emotions scraped at her recently broken heart.

"No, because I'm supposed to be some tough demon and all I want is to make the Slayer happy so she'll give me a crumb, a hope, a split _second_ where I can pretend that one day she might love me back."

A long pause as body temperatures adjusted for the better, hers dropping and his rising. Spike was just thinking that the arrangement was oddly nice when her head lolled back and the form in his arms started to slide down. "Slayer!"

"I'll get it!" Buffy gasped, waking up. "Did I fall asleep?"

"For a second."

"My head is too big. So much too big. How does my hair still fit?"

Spike bit down a smile and let out another sigh. _Back to barmy._ "It's not literally bigger, Pet, it's just the fever talking. Let's get you to bed. How's the throat?" He deposited her on her tangled, rumpled sheets and she pulled him along for the ride.

"Wants something cold. It feels like it's scalded. All of me feels scalded. Can I have an ice pack? Oh, wait. I have you."

"You can't swallow me, Luv." _Well, she could. _Images of her warm mouth slipping up and down his cock as she moaned in relief and he moaned in pleasure, culminating in freezing drops that she'd be glad to receive- _Shit._ He went hard without a second's thought.

Buffy blinked up at him myopically. "Is vampire blood cold?"

"Uh- mine is right now." _I guess her mind went to a different liquid. _

"Is vampire cum cold?"

_Maybe not so different._"What?" He fell off the bed and scrambled back up, wide-eyed.

"Angel- it was once, and I like- was seventeen and it was my first time. I was sad. It was your fault, you know. Your stupid box of Judge parts!" She randomly hit him with a pillow and then a stuffed pig and continued talking as if nothing had happened, "I know he came, but I don't know if it felt warm because I was warm, or is it naturally warm."

"It's warm. Enough," Spike answered hastily, wishing to get the hell off of this subject.

"Would yours be, right now? Because you're so cold?"

"I don't know. I've never nearly froze to death since I've been dead. Or alive, come to think of it."

"Poor you." Buffy patted his head and sat herself in his lap, bare thighs to his jeans. She shifted uncomfortably and then growled. "It's not as good like this."

"What? Face to face is better?" _Bloody hell, that turned to sex in my head. It was perfectly innocent when I started, I swear! _

Buffy shook her head and yanked her hair off her neck. "With your pants off. Your clothes aren't as cold as your skin. Pants off, please?"

"Sweetheart, again with the fever and you not havin' a damn bit of sense."

"I do so too have sense!" Buffy petulantly told him. "I am sick. Possibly supernaturally sick. I need a supernatural cure. I need an ice bath- and maybe someone who can stop me from going outside. Was I outside? I was outside, that's how I met you. Anyway…" her hands suddenly were squarely on his shoulders. "You are helping me. You do that. You do that more and more. I like that. I don't know if I like all of you, but I like parts of you. Right now, I like your skin. And you have to play fair. I'm in my underwear, so you get in yours."

There was an acre of babble that needed sorting and what did he choose to say? "I don't wear 'em, Luv."

"What? Not at all? Like, never?"

"Not at all. Ever. Although believe me, today, I wished I had the warmest woolies in the universe. Would have worn eighteen pairs of thermals if I'd had 'em. Not that it would bloody help. The wind out there- that ain't normal wind. It cuts through flesh like a silver blade."

"Pretty words, poet words," Buffy leaned back, tugging on his pants again.

"Oi! We just established that-"

"I'll take mine off, too!" Buffy said peevishly. Stubborn vampire who couldn't understand simple things. Skin equaled better for both. Ergo, more skin. Also, Giles would be so proud of her for using the word ergo. Unless that was French for snails?

"Don't!" Spike gripped her hands hard as she moved to follow through on her idea. The position they arrived in was- compromising. Speaking of warm and wooly- Slayer's tight little panties left nothing to the imagination, must be made of spider silk. He could see a dark triangle of curls, thin line between lips, even the obscured color of her pink flesh as she rocked back, thighs still spread over top of his.

"Is it because I don't love you?" Buffy asked. "You want me to love you back, and then you'll help me?" she whimpered, shaking him off and nearly falling backward. He grabbed her again and she gave up the struggle, his cold fingers soothing her hands, which throbbed with pain as well as fever.

"Oh, no. No, no, Slayer, no quid pro quo here. I'd do anything to help you. I'm not sure us rubbin' our naked bodies together would help you in the long run. I'm pretty sure that later you'd hate my guts, more than ever, an' worse, hate yourself." _But really, this is more about avoiding a lethal round of "Kick the Spike."_

She pushed off, fell, and rolled to her hands and knees, whimpering as her fingers bore the brunt of her weight. She crawled away, off to the vanity where Spike had left the pad and pen. She started scribbling while talking aloud. "I do solemnly swear that I'm sane enough to understand that people don't usually get naked together but I think I'm going to boil over inside and you feel good and I promise not to hate you unless you -" she stopped and looked nervously at him.

"What?"

"Are you afraid that I'll think you… did stuff to me while I was fever gal?"

"Yep. In one. And then you'll yell at me that I should have stopped it, that I should have known better, that I let it all go wrong and then- poof. Hoovers-one, Spike-zero." He mimed an explosion of dust from the heart out.

"What if I loan you some of my underwear?"

"In my opinion, the only English bloke who can properly pull off ladies' lingerie is Tim Curry."

"Damn. My fever is worse. I can't understand what you're saying now." She rubbed her head, then tried squeezing it. No good. Wouldn't shrink. Stupid, puffy brain.

"I'll translate. No thanks, you keep your pretties."

"Shirts off? I'm all nice and toasty?"

_Okay. All right. Can't rightly get into too much trouble with my shirt off. Or hers._ "Sign the paper. Give me the bloody pen, and be quick." He yanked his shirt over his head and she squealed, doing the same.

He'd hoped it would be somehow romantic. Torrid. Tender.

It was like being humped by an overeager puppy. She slid her chest to him with a thousand thank yous and then spun on her back, putting her spine against his sternum with another warble of delight. "You feel so good! Are you feeling better? Am I making you feel good?"

"I feel better," he admitted tersely, trying not to put fevered words into sexual context. No good. His imagination had a little tropical vacation while his body was stuck in Siberia.

Topless Buffy, writhing, wrapping around him, moaning in his ear, breathlessly panting as she wrapped her hot body 'round his, hearing imaginary breathless moans that related to sex, not shivering, "Is it good for you, Baby? Am I making you feel good?"

Of course, she sounded nothing like the siren in his head, but his imagination took over his mouth, letting him reply in a decidedly passionate tone of voice. "Ohhh, yes, Slayer. Yes, Luv, so good." Bless her fevered brain, she didn't seem to mind or notice. He wasn't _trying _to sound like that. Not trying to sound like he was about to cum all over himself, trapped in these too tight jeans, skin burning in that painful way as feeling returns to frozen flesh. Actually- "Ow."

"'S wrong?" She rolled back to face him, head directly over his. When had they ended up lying down, not sitting?

_Wait, how did I end up flat on my back? More importantly- pain. _"Arggh, fuck, frostbite's a bitch. You can't feel it until you're out of it, you know. Least I don't have blackened bits. I hope." It occurred to him he hadn't checked the contents of his trousers. He wouldn't have unzipped for anything short of- well, short of Buffy, and now he wasn't unzipping for that, either. "I'm having a very effed up day. An' so are you, Princess."

"What do you do for frostbite? That's surprisingly not covered in California first aid class in high school health."

"Should be if you go to school on a ruddy Hellmouth." He suddenly blinked. "Is this Hell freezing over?"

She stared. Giggled. Snorted. Giggled some more and laid her head on his chest, shaking with laughter. "Maybe," she wheezed. All at once, she stopped, eyes looking focused for the first time since Spike had encountered her. "Wait. Isn't Glory a hell goddess? Of a hell dimension?"

"B'lieve that was the intel from Tweedy."

"Could she actually be doing something to the Hellmouth?"

"I don't know. Is the Watcher looking into the weather?"

She reached unceremoniously over top of him and snagged a slim white phone from the little bedside stand, tits shoved into his face as she dialed the Magic Box.

"Magic Box, how may we assist you?" Giles answered the phone.

"Can Glory freeze hell over?"

"I- no. I don't think so."

"Isn't she trying to open a doorway?"

"Yes… Buffy, have you taken your temperature lately?"

"No, but I'm burning up. I'm serious, though. Glory came to town and she tried some rituals and they didn't work and now… icy Sunnydale. And I started feeling sick when I fought her scabby little goons."

"All of this could be coincidence, but I'll look into it. In the meantime, your mother and sister are safe. Willow and Tara went to the hotel with them. The college is closed for the day, apparently. The boiler hadn't been used in several decades and it burst this morning trying to match this unnatural weather, so they tell me. Our central heating is barely keeping up. Are you warm enough?"

"Don't make sick jokes." Buffy grunted and propped herself up on one elbow- which happened to be in the vicinity of Spike's forehead.

Spike jabbed her pointedly in the ribs, mouth muffled and unwilling to open unless he be accused of trying to suck on her nipples- which he was trying very, very hard_ not_ to do. She looked down and gasped. Spike's face was nestled between her breasts and he looked at her with tortured eyes, as if to say, "How much temptation to you expect me to resist in one day?"

"Sorry," she mouthed, sitting up. As soon as she removed her warmth from him, he shivered again and she felt the raging burn set back in. "I'm not better, yet. Also, my throat is killing me. _Killing_ me."

"Well, stop talking," Giles ordered sensibly.

"No! Everything is very, very clear when I'm sick- when I'm not delirious." A break from the blistering temperature had cleared her head enough to put some things together. "I think Glory screwed up a ritual to find the key and open a door to _her_ hell and whammied _our_ Hellmouth. Or maybe this is on purpose, maybe this is part of a ritual, I don't know. Also, I think evil energy zapped me and gave me the Hellmouth flu. Because… because I'm the Slayer and the local Big Good. She's trying to take me down. I wonder if those little minions were _supposed_ to die, or at least get hurt enough to bleed on me, just so I could get infected with something."

Giles was quiet. "All of that has the_ potential _to make sense. I'm not saying that it does, but… some things you said do line up. I must call the Council. Buffy, if she is trying to weaken you, you must take extra precautions."

"Like a bodyguard?"

"The idea seems laughable, I admit, but under the circumstances-"

"Spike. He'll do it."

"But-"

"He doesn't want Dawn to get hurt. Or me. He's twisted, but good twisted."

"Dear Lord, I'm calling an ambulance. Wait there."

"I'm serious. He loves me."

"He's obsessed with you.'

"Isn't that love, twisted?"

Giles put his glasses on the register and bowed his head. "Back to the ambulance. Put your shoes on and pack your toothbrush. I'll call your mother."

Spike stood up and paced, silently raking hands through his hair. "Tell him I'm here and I'll look after you until he's off work. Tell him to bring blood, I'm starving."

"Spike is already here. He says he'll Slayer-sit until you get here, and he wants blood, he's hungry."

"What?" Giles yelped, startling several customers.

"You heard me." The cloudy feeling came back the longer he left her presence, the fever unmitigated by his cooling touch. A thought was there, but it wriggled free as her temperature soared. "Oh! Oh, right, Giles, what if this flu is supernatural and it is meant to weaken me? What if Glory got me sick so I'd be too sick to fight her and maybe the whole cold snap is a link in the chain, like, no one will think twice about someone coming down with the flu in chilly, arctic weather?"

"Don't mention arctic," Spike rubbed his bare arms.

Buffy watched the corded muscles flexing, a blue-black spider-webbing of veins showing through his skin. "Pretty spiderwebs."

"What?" Giles asked in her ear as Spike hissed it across from her.

"Nothing. Will you bring him blood?"

"Yes, yes. If he tries anything-"

"He can't hurt me. He helps."

"Yes, he has helped in the past, in his own best interests."

Buffy cocked her head, sinking back into the grip of the fever as she watched him walking in a tight circle. "But… he loves me. So isn't helping me in his own best interest?"

Spike's head jerked up so fast that he was afraid his frozen muscles would snap. His clear blue eyes met her puzzled ones.

Slippery thoughts. She tried to hold onto that one. Thought-y eels. She snagged it with an effort that drew her brows together. "Helping someone is what you do… when you love them. I'll be safe with Spike until you get here."

He came over to her, hands on her shoulders as she murmured goodbye to her sputtering, semi-protesting Watcher.

She nestled into his touch like a cat looking for its master's palm. The phone slid from her fingers and clunked onto the floor.

"You get a lot of things when you're spaced out. Why's that?" Spike asked quietly.

"No filter. No hang ups. Not a lot. I met the first Slayer. There was someone with both the most and least hang ups. She sure never checked the mirror."

"How'd you-"

"A spell-induced-post-Adam killing dream."

"Your headspace really gets around."

She giggled weakly, then winced and rubbed her throat.

"Here. Lemme do it." Spike placed his hands on the back of her neck, situating himself behind her. Fingers rubbed and kneaded the soft cartilage and sinew of her throat. Hands around the throat he'd once dreamed of slicing into, sipping from, neck he'd dreamed of snapping. "It's all twisted," he breathed against her.

"I know." _What do I know? I don't remember what I know. _

_I know Spike. I have Spike here and when he touches me, it's better. I like that. I like him today. I could like him tomorrow, too._

He hummed in contentment, which she shattered.

"Do vampires catch colds?"

"No." _Here we go again, back on the merry go round._

"What about infections?"

"Not unless they're of the supernatural sort, spells, curses, poisons… "

"I might be inecting you, then. You're a - a creature of magic, like me."

"Creature of magic. Now who's the poet?" he pressed his lips unthinkingly to her shoulder, and it seemed to be exactly what she wanted, to his surprise.

"You're kissing me."

"I- not exactly."

"You could get what I have."

"I guess."

"It's terrible."

"I get that."

"So, don't you want to run away? Leave? Things are tough. This is when the men leave."

"Not this man. I never leave. They leave me, Luv."

"I never leave them. They leave me, too."

Silence. Turning. Kissing, her hot lips on his icy ones.

"We stay." She ordered it, no questions.

"We stay." He nodded, kissing her back, gently, in case the first one was a fevered fluke.

It didn't seem to be. She pulled him back to the bed. "When you cool me down, I think more clearly, not less. I'm more sure of what I'm doing, not as confused."

"Not to doubt you, but what is it that you want to do?" Spike queried, hesitantly following her lead.

She prawled back on the bed, naked but for the nearly-sheer lavender panties. "Make warm. Help me think. I'll help you, too. What do you need?"

_Her. I need her. No, I _want_ her. What do I _need_? Blood, I s'pose. Warmth. To stay alive._ "Blood, but that can wait."

A long, slow, solemn nod. "I don't have any. I mean, in me, yes, but you shouldn't bite me." She blinked. "They scratched my hands with something so they bled and then- they bled. The demon guys. I got their blood in my cuts. They _did_ give this to me. On purpose. So, you can't drink me. It's blood-spread."

"Wait, wait. Are you telling me that the only reason you're not feeding me is to protect me from Hellbitch's minion's germs?"

"Pretty much."

"But if you weren't sick like this, if it were just the bog standard flu?"

"You need it. The truce is about what you need."

"I can live without food for a bit. I need to warm up. There. That's what I need."

"I can do that." She held out her arms to him. He hesitated. "I'll take the rest of my clothes off if you don't."

He sighed and let himself be hustled into her embrace. "All your threats are backwards, Luv."

"Shhhh. Nice, cold vampire. Pretty spider vampire."

"Pretty? Spider?"

"Shh." She absently kissed his ear and nuzzled her cheek into his. "Can you just hold me for a little bit? My brain'll clear up and maybe my head will even shrink back down to normal." She massaged her hands into his back, more for the pain-relief than his pleasure.

_Could hold you forever, especially if you do that. _"That I can do." _What the hell?_ He kissed her forehead and sat down under his mostly-nude hot water bottle and nuzzled her right back.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Thank you to those who are reading my Spuffy-inspired erotica series, CrossRealms by S.C. Principale. The first two books of the CrossRealms Trilogy are out and a stand alone book should be released in late February!


	3. Part III

**Warm **

**By Sweetprincipale**

California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to: Brokenblackrose89, Mistress of Dragons, Pentastic, PGoodrichBoggs, and Battered Child. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

**Part III**

She wouldn't put the covers up, but in about five minutes, he stopped shivering and could enjoy her nearly nude body draping over him. Emboldened by earlier, he kissed her throat, murmuring apologies that she was hurting between kisses, then licks.

"Sorry, my lamb. Poor Slayer. Beautiful Slayer. How's that?" He sucked her scalding pulse point into his cool mouth.

"Better. Hurts inside."

"I'll go get you ice water." He hated to leave her presence, but topless, clingy Buffy made it hard to think. He was being nice- and keeping his sanity for a few more seconds.

"Thank you." She kissed him on the lips as he pulled away, laying her cheek to his warmer, but still cool abdomen.

Plus, kisses. Topless, snuggly Slayer kisses. He felt like he could float. He coughed gruffly, "Be right back."

"Okay." She flopped back. She wondered if she could cool herself down better from the inside out. "Extra ice cubes?" she called through her raw throat.

"Lots," he hollered back.

_I'll put the ice cubes in my throat. No. No, I can't swallow solid chunks of ice. I'll choke. Anyway, in my case, they'll melt immediately. I need something cold that won't melt. Want to put it in my mouth and down my throat and- _an image flickered into her mind, a horrible, inappropriate image.

Spike's fingers in her mouth. They wouldn't reach very far.

_Bet his cock is longer._

_ I can't suck his cock. That's wrong and slutty and not truceful._

He returned with a tall glass, more ice than water. She snagged it eagerly and drained the water in a second, then scooped out ice and ran it all over her neck and chest.

Spike's mouth dried out watching. She must not realize._ Must not get how it turns a man on to see his girl rubbing herself all over- _the Slayer let out a tiny, pleased yip as the ice found her nipple- _Or maybe she wants to torture me. I admit, I deserve some kinda torture. She's bloody creative. Minx. Said this one was resourceful. She gets her enemy right where she wants him, even if she's sick as a dog. And even if he's no longer her enemy. _

"Turn around, I need to try something." Buffy commanded and didn't even wait for him to obey to start fishing out an ice cube, hand heading between her legs.

Spike turned, trying not to moan, trying not to reach down and stroke himself.

"Oooh. Oh, that's better. That's good." Her voice was breathy.

_She's putting ice in her pussy. Or rubbing it on her sweet little slit, over her little nub._

_ No. That's impossible. She would never do that with me in the room, where I could see her any second with one little turn of my head- stoppit, Head. Stay still, eyes forward. Or eyes closed. That'll be it. Eyes closed. I passed out from the cold. I'm in some sort of frozen comatose state and all of this is a bizarre dream._

"Argh! It melts in seconds. It's not working. Why does ice have to melt? Spike, do they make non-melting ice?"

_My dreams wouldn't come with an ice cube suddenly pelting me in the back of the head, would they? _He turned back halfway, in time to see the crotch of her panties tugged back into place, now see-through with wetness. "What're you trying to do?"

"Break my fever. I remember they put people with heatstroke in tubs of ice and packed ice under their arms and on the back of their necks. The ice is melting on my skin right away. I need something that won't melt. I need you."

"Okay, I'm here, Luv. Right here." His mouth, much warmer than it had been, turned into the Sahara, dry as sand. _What does she need me for? I have a feeling it isn't going to be to fetch another glass of water. What the hell am I going to say?_

"Is your -' she paused. _Should I be polite or casual? I know it's wrong. He might not think it's wrong, he might like it. He'll love it! But I should ask nicely._ "Is your penis- cock cold," she decided to use both the anatomically correct term so she sounded professional and the sexy term so he'd know she was being friendly, "and could I borrow it if it is?" She smiled, pleased with her request and certain (in her fevered state) that she'd asked in the perfect way.

His mind froze- how funny. It was slow, frozen into a solid state of reluctance, want, and worry. Then, like someone losing their footing and skidding helplessly, the words slid out. "I don't know. I think it is, I haven't checked," he was startled into answering.

"It'll warm up inside me right away, I know that, but could I borrow it for a few minutes?"

"I can't exactly take it off!"

"I know! We could use it together. Submerging it in me might be good for you." _Giles would so be proud of me. I used submerged. I remember when I first heard that I thought it meant two submarines made a deal. _Her smile broadened and she laughed at the joke inside her head.

_ Bloody amazing for me, but probably not like this._ "Slayer-"

"You'd warm up," she wheedled.

"Slayer! You cannot have sex with a person just to warm 'em up."

"Yes, you can! That's why August has the most babies. Cold weather means couples keep each other warm and then sex and then nine months later- babies!"

"Oh, Luv," he sighed, shaking his head, trying to stifle the insane laughter waiting to burst out, "we're not a couple."

"We're a friend-couple. A truce-couple. And I don't have any frozen bananas."

"What in the name of-" _Oh, holy sweet mercy, picturing the Slayer slipping a banana in and out of her-_

She continued, cutting him off, talking to herself and the ice cubes that liquified as soon as she got them into her palm. "I had a bunch for smoothies but I haven't been to the store and you won't melt and I promise not to stake you and I like you and it hurts to talk, so can you please just say yes and make me feel better?"

"No! I'll go to the store! The bananas will freeze before I'm five feet out the market door ad oughta be ready for - for whatever y -"

A screech from outside the window derailed the argument. Buffy, uncaring for her topless state, went blithely to the window and began to raise it. Spike yelped and slammed it shut. "You're not decent and I'm still only half-thawed, let's not start the process all over again."

"Something is-"

Another screech, this one followed by several slams. In the distance, sirens wailed.

Spike didn't know how it happened. The words "friend-couple" seemed perfectly appropo at the moment, him lifting his arm, her sliding under it, hand on his chest, cuddling close as they rubbed a circle on the thickly frosted glass.

"How the fuck did that happen so fast?"

Revello Drive was a sheet of ice. Cars were crashing up and down the nearby roads, if sounds of sirens and metal meeting metal were anything to go by.

She pushed her forehead and hands to the glass and closed her eyes, willing the cold to invade her where she felt burned. "It's not normal. Not a normal storm. It never even rained, how is there ice? Have to fight it, have to fight her, you have to help me."

"To the store I go."

"You won't make it there on foot without ice skates. This place is freezing over. _You_ could freeze over. Stay and help me."

_She wants my help._ Every instinct he had told him to say yes, unequivocally yes, as you always did for the woman you loved, never refuse her needs. But he shook his head. "Sticking my cock in you-" he winced at the harsh sound to his words, "is not going to cure your bloody fever."

"But it'll help." She leaned into him with her hips. He stepped away and she thrust back into him, bottom to his groin, both of them moaning.

_Words. Find words. _"Spike?"

He hadn't moved. His hands, still much cooler than her reddish-pink skin, stroked lovingly, slowly down her spine, fingertips only, as if afraid to give in and touch her more thoroughly. "Yeah?"

"I don't like… feeling alone. And feeling crazy. When they- when I went to that hospital, they gave me things. They were antipsychotics or something like that, only- I wasn't actually psychotic so… I didn't react well to them. Trapped in twisted places in my head. Not a good twisted. Not good twisted, like you."

"Oh, Baby, I know how that hurts… I know what it's like to be trapped." _Watched Dru trapped, watched myself trapped, in that chair, in her love, and now in the Slayer's snare, girl's not even aware she's set one…_

"I don't love you."

"I know that."

"I don't think I can lie. Lying right now means you have to be able to think of the truth and then a lie to put over top of it. I can barely handle talking."

It was true. Her breathing had become labored, her head dipping forward more weakly. He noticed that her skin radiated heat even without touching it. The windstorm that somehow added layers of ice worsened and so did she. His blue eyes flared open as connections were made.

Buffy continued, leaning forward now, rubbing her breasts and stomach to the window, melting the ice from the inside out. _Just like me. Fix me from the inside out. _"Can't lie."

"I believe you're bein' honest, Luv."

"I want to use you. You'll cool me off. I'll warm you up. And I'll feel better. You'll feel better. If you help me and don't hurt me when I need you most… I won't hate you later. I won't be in love, but I'll like. Because I already like. Today, I like."

"Slayer, the fever, or the poison, or the virus in you-"

"Remember what you said?" She turned to face him, eyes wide and sparkling in the grip of internal fire, hair dark, damp, and plastered to her cheeks.

"I've said so many things to you."

"You said, 'I'm telling you the truth. I'm not crazy. I'm not wrong, just because you can't see it.' Well, … ditto. Can't you," her voice was cracking, desperate as she reached for him, gasping as fingers found relief when twined with his, "can't you trust me?"

"I trust you."

"Let me have you?"

Hell. Seven layers of it and a cherry on top. If she'd said it any other way, he pretended he could have resisted. As it was… "All yours, Slayer."

* * *

"You're big. So big. Still cold." Her hot hands worked with his, taking off his pants and belt, roving over him without any finesse and still feeling amazing.

"I'm not freezing anymore," Spike admitted he was well below room temperature. "I think it's just you're so hot."

_And I'm insane. This can't possibly be happening. So if it can't be happening, if I'm really just freezing to a near-second-death, dreaming, I'll just enjoy it. _He cautiously touched her forehead, then hips as she swayed unsteadily in front of him. "So, beautifully, bloody hot." _Love to feel her. Be in her. Take her, let her have me in any way, every way… _

Buffy giggled, hands skirting around him, knowing something special was happening, but feeling- comfortable. At ease. Had the fever removed the fear? Or was it the man who said he loved her? She had to believe him, because he had to believe her. _That's what you do in a truce. Have to trust. Carry each other. Believe each other. _"I'm not hot like that. I try to be sexy, but I know- I'm just a freak."

He threw his head back, laughing a single shout to the ceiling. "Not sexy! Who told you that lie?"

She shrugged. "I don't think I am. I think I'm… awkward. Too strong. Too clumsy. Never what they want."

"Fools. Wankers. You're everything any man could want, everything I want," he panted, words desperate, his fists gripping her waist as her hands stroked him steadily.

"There's a movie. About this." Buffy suddenly whispered conspiratorially.

"About the woman who doesn't know how beautiful she is? Prob'ly a dozen."

"You're so sweet." Head lifted, lips were cracking as they pressed to his.

"You need fluids. Something is burnin' through you."

"Deep Throat. Don't tell my mom."

Say nothing of the car crashes outside, his brain just had an utter pileup. _Tell Joyce about-_ "God! God, no, never!" Then squinting. "Slayer, Luv, nice idea, b'lieve me, but I don't think it'll help."

"I still have to try! Oh. I mean, may I?"

He stepped back. "See? This is how I know it's a dream. You'll find me in Restfield, frozen to the ground, blue and black, withered up, skin with an inch of frost-"

"Stop. Ew."

"I'm unconscious. There's no way on earth you'd come along all sweet and doe-eyed, 'May I suck your cock, please?' Never in a billion-"

"Not unless hell froze over?" Buffy arched one eyebrow.

"Exactly!" _Wait a tick…_ "Oh. Well, fuck me." He gaped.

"Okay, but first can we see if you fix my throat? I don't have any cough drops and I'm out of orange juice."

* * *

He didn't pass out. He was just sort of dazed. She was, too. He was in shock. She was simply fading fast. Either way, both of them lost the function of their legs and collapsed onto her bed. "Lemme make it good for you, Baby." He decided if this were one of those supernatural Hellmouth events, he'd better enjoy it. He was probably going to die shortly after she recovered.

"Why sound sad?" Buffy slid her panties to her ankles and limply shook them off one foot, letting them land next to the pool of black denim.

_No point in lying. She won't remember this anyway, only remember the bad parts, with my luck. _"When this is over, you're gonna hate me an' most likely kill me. I'll finally be with the woman I love, but she's too sick to enjoy it. Not sure if she'd ever want me except in the eleventh hour circumstances."

"Those are all super good reasons for misery," Buffy murmured, feeling pangs of sympathy for the handsome helper beside her. Her own voice became glum. "And you'll hurt me later. Tell me I was a slut. That I wasn't good. That I don't know how to make a real man happy, or a real demon."

His brain should only be subjected to so many complete and utter moments of shock per day. He took a full ten seconds to make a coherent sentence."What? Why would I say that, why would I do that?"

"I don't know. You got to say what you're scared of so I do, too. Fair."

"I'll never mock you. Or hurt you. Never again. I wanna love you and make you happy."

"Even if I'm not on fire?"

"_Especially _when you're not on fire. Fire's a bit problematic to vampires."

"Humans, too!" she pointed out with a pout. Her face cleared. "We could… we could do truces when the world isn't ending and hell isn't involved." Her tone was cautious, eyes guarded as she rolled to her side, facing him, one hand going tentatively to his chest.

His own eyes were wary as he placed his hand atop of hers, noticing that the deep royal blue of frozen blood under skin had gone to a look of white on white, tiny tracks in the snow of his skin. "We could do that. I'm in."

"Me, too. And… I'd like to maybe do things, like nice things, like keep each other warm- or cool- on a non-eleventh hour basis."

His heart didn't beat. It was probably quite literally frozen at the moment. Still, it froze again in a whole new way, a tense way, waiting for the answer to his question, "You'd give us a try?"

"Mmhm." Her hand was suddenly millimeters from his nose making him yelp and jerk his head back. "Shake on it?"

"Deal." He maneuvered his arm up at an odd angle to take her proffered hand.

"Yay! Oh. Poop. You're not big anymore." She looked down.

"I just held my heart up to see if you'd shoot holes in it. Give a bloke a second," he snapped irritably.

"I can help!" Buffy scooted down, sighing when she found his legs and tucking his chilly toes between her calves, cocooning around him, cheek on his thigh. "Look, it already woke up!"

He had to chuckle and give in. "Yes, Pet, your lips inches from him wakes him- oohhhh!"

"MMMM!" Buffy held up a hand with a muffled exclamation.

Spike hesitated. "I'm not- I'm not pushing it in, Luv, if that's the sign for back off, you've got to move, not me," he tried to explain.

"That's a high five, doofus," Buffy snapped, lifting her mouth of her new delightfully chilled treat. She thrust her palm at him pointedly and he slapped it as requested. "Also, sorry. I promise, no more mean words."

"I died and went to heaven. Wait…"

"You're just regularly undead dead. Okay, you have to help me with this part. I figure if they made a movie about it, there's something tricky."

_The Slayer is asking me for advice on deep throating._ "Can you pinch me? Not too -OW!"_ Shouldn't have asked that, 'specially not when she's down there._

"Why?" Buffy complied without putting the pieces together.

"Never mind. I never saw the movie and I don't think it's that difficult. Here. Let me see what I can do…"

* * *

_He tastes nice. Sounds nice. Feels nice. Is nice. Huh. Spike is nice. Spike is so appreciative. Why didn't I notice that?_ Her mouth slid gently over his white tip, down the hard length that slightly stretched her jaw. He moaned softly, stroking her hair, her face, praising her, telling she was so good, so good to him, a natural, a wonder, and made him so warm.

"Prefect, Slayer. Perfect, you're perfect, Buffy." He knew she had faults. Perfect to_ him._

She didn't stop to reply. She tipped her head back as she sat on her knees and let the man standing above her, meeting her eyes, do the next bit.

"Might hurt your throat. You just tap me if you want me to move back," he whispered.

She'd thought this was dirty. Very, very dirty. Spike made it seem very intimate. Loving. Teamwork-y. She sighed happily on him and he popped his hips forward in pleasure. His tip hit the back of her throat and he was quick to pull back. She was quick to surge forward.

"So bloody hot, Baby… So tight in there. Gonna make me cum like this, God, Slayer, gonna cum in your mouth if you keep-"

She had no idea what she was even doing, but apparently moving around to try and take him in deeper so the lovely coolness could reach more of the ouchy places inside was awesome. Mutually awesome. She smiled as best she could.

"Did you just smile at me?"

She nodded, which earned a whole crescendo of moans. She coughed slightly. Gag reflex tried to assert itself and she told it to get the hell away, because this was going to be just what she needed.

She tilted her head, turning it slightly, dipping under him.

"Precious, you're gonna hurt your-"

"Nn!" An angry noise and lowered brows dared him to continue.

"Suit yourself." Spike shrugged and held still, let her bob around him, sometimes taking him deeply past the base of her tongue, sometimes feathering licks around the front. "I love this," he moaned. "Love you…"

The instinct to argue had vanished. Why argue with that's true? You don't have to say it back. That's fine. It's all fine.

_ I feel better._

_ Spike is cathartic._

_ YES! Big word times three_! She giggled around him. When she told Giles- he would come over all speechless. Mr. Big Wordy Pants, silent. _Go me._

Spike couldn't let that go. He smiled himself and asked, "Share the joke, Slayer?"

"I was thinking about Giles," she spoke, needing a break for more airflow.

His face tried to mask the hurt. "Oh. You and he get up to some sort of 'training'?"

She nipped his thigh, hard, pulling his cock down so it was under her chin and not obscuring her angry-glare face. "No! I was thinking that you make me feel good and feel better and you are cathartic. And Giles, Mr.-The-Dictionary-Is-In-My-Blood would be proud of me. I like making people proud of me. I let down so many people."

"You lift up so many people. In fact- my turn. Lemme do a little bit of lifting. Making you feel better."

"But you just were!" _And there was going to be vampire stuff happening in a minute and I could finally figure out if it's cold or not. Although, this is kind of a special circumstance. I'll take notes on this time- where's that paper? Once we're better, we'll check again. _

_ Again?_

_ Yes. Again. Lots and lots of again._

"Mouth is still a lot cooler than your skin," he murmured, putting her back on the bed, kissing her all over, hearing her sigh and breathe more easily as each kiss brought relief. "Much, much cooler than this hot little paradise."

Then, the next kisses brought pleasure.

"Oooohhh, this is the thing! This is the thing I wanted, the non-melting thing. Spike cubes!" she crowed as her thighs danced weakly around his head.

He tongue teased into her hot slit, down over her tight cheeks and over her folds, up to draw her clit into his mouth and hold it for several seconds, pulsing sucks on it that made her moan in relief and then shout as her orgasm built.

"In me?" Buffy begged, and then shook her head, frowning. "No, sorry, wait."

"Wait?"

"Do it like you."

"Huh?"

She propped herself up on her elbows, looking down on him as he paused in his lapping. She moved one hand down to trace his eyebrows, his forehead, his hair, watching eyes flutter shut and listening to a contented sound emanate from his chest. "I wanna do it like you did. So good to me. Good at this," she whispered. She remembered how his sweet words made her feel. Warm. Cherished.

"How does a bad guy love someone so good?" she asked. "As in, how are you good at it?"

"'Cause love is always good," he murmured, looking up, head on her thigh.

"Ohhh." _So much sense-making. Fevers should happen whenever life was hard._

_ Or not. That was probably not a good thing. _

But what happened in her nether regions was an excellent thing. "Gonna make you cum for me, all right, Precious?"

"Do I have a choice?" Buffy let out a strangled gasp and fell back as two fingers invaded her, blessedly below her internal boiling point and doing delicious things to her sweet spot.

"Always have choices. I could stop. That's a choice." His tongue flicked over her clit as he spoke, making her stiffen and writhe.

"Take that one off the table. Cumming is good. Then you cum, okay? In my mouth. Or my pussy. Wherever, but it has to be inside, I have theories to test."

"I never thought science could be so sexy. See? You make everything hot, Baby."

"Mmmmhmm. And also- my brain is cooling off. It gets overheated. And busy. I'm always so busy. Right now, I can focus on important stuff."

"Like?" Fingers bewitched her, made her spasm and squeal, earning truths that she might otherwise hide out of a sense of decorum.

"Like the awesomeness of Spike. And the connection between frozen Hellmouths, Slayers, and Glory."

"Right now? That second one?"

"No, not_ right_ now. But it's there. All the clear stuff is there. Is vampire cum clear?"

"Not mine."

"Mine is."

"You're not a vampire."

"That's good. You're not biting me, are you?"

He laughed at the moaning tone in her voice, the pleasure-filled haze she spoke in. "I'm about to do a little bit of it, but only the kind you'll like."

Blunt teeth and agile tongue worked together, trapping her clit, trapping her folds, wickedly working down, daring to take advantages- no, liberties, with his trusting partner. "Wanna see if you like some new things?"

"Like what?"

Tongue pushed into pink cleft, fingers spread her cheeks and thumb massaged her tight pucker.

"Spike's smart. Finds all the yummy places," Buffy rolled over onto her belly and stretched.

He kept licking her, lifting her hips up and off the bed, fingers driving in hard. "C'mere, face up, Precious, wanna see it…"

She rolled, moaning, splayed on his hand. "Not fair. You didn't let me see you cum!"

"I haven't yet, you silly thing. You'll get an eyeful when I do, I promise."

"No eyes. Mouth or pussy."

"I meant, you'll see it happen. In one of those places, you pick. Eyes are not part of my plan- unless my aim goes severely off."

She regarded him seriously, as if he had shared great wisdom. He expected a huge speech of some sort from her, but all she said was, "I think we should do it in both places. Can we do it two times?"

"If you don't kill me after the first go round."

She wriggled under him, tone faintly whiny. "I already promised I wouldn't. Go get the paper."

"What, now?" Dammit. He nibbled on her inner thigh, eyes locked on hers in what he hoped was a seductive, entrancing stare.

Didn't work.

Her fingers were poking into his scalp, jabbing his head back. "Yes! We have to write it down because you're being stubborn."

He rose with a grunt of frustration. "_I'm_ stubborn_?_" The cheek of this woman! Actually, he liked her cheek. All of them.

_Ooh, Spike standing in front of me._ Good height. Good view. Her mouth darted down over his cock again, making him moan. She pulled off, "Yes, you! Mr. Stubborn! Go get the pen." She pumped him in her hand and nudged him away, falling after him, leaning weakly on his shoulder as he retrieved a pen and paper.

"What do I write, oh patient one?" he snarked. He expected a shout or a snipe in return and instead felt affectionate teeth and hot breath on his neck. He turned his head just in time to meet hers, nose to nose, another kiss, a burrowing that led to panting mouths and eyelashes fluttering together. He repeated more gently, "What do you want me to say, Buffy?"

"That … that it doesn't end after one time. That you don't hurt me and I don't hurt you, even if everything we do seems crazy. Even if we're both stubborn."

"Well, _you're_ stubborn, I'll give you that. I'm an expert in crazy," he sighed and scribbled down the notes she dictated, passing the pen to her at the end. He stared and smothered an amused "Awww" as she drew hearts around both of their names after she signed.

"See? It's cute. This is the cutest truce document- what do you call them? I can't think of the name, but it's like Verse-Sales or something. They do a lot of these papers there."

"Versailles? Treaty! Yes, this is the cutest peace treaty in the history of Hellmouths, Luv." Spike agreed, putting the paper and pen down.

"You're pretty cute, too."

"What'd you say earlier? Ditto?"

"Mhmm." She was looking at him one second, falling the next, and he scooped her up automatically. _Built to catch me. Slayer of Slayers. Yes, built to catch us, in more ways that one._

"Easy, I got you," he soothed.

She nodded, grabbing his head weakly, pressing tongue into his lips as the came to hers.

She looked up at him so trustingly, sick or not. She clung to him, overheated but shivering, sweating. Maybe her fever was breaking. He found he didn't care right now. _Love her sick, love her well. Fuck, I love her so much and maybe… I'd better not worry about what happens next. I get this gift, one time._ "Love you, Slayer."

"I believe you." She nestled into his arms, cooling down, satisfied that she was relaxing him, too. Relaxing him and something else… happy-ing him? Making him happy, warming him up, trusting him.

_All the good stuff is in the bad package today. I think that's only fair. I mean, look at how many crappy packages I get, one of them ought to have a good surprise_. "Love me?" she tilted her head like a confused puppy.

"Yeah, Baby."

"Wanna show me how much?"

_She knows just how to ask. She doesn't even have to try. _

He suppressed a chuckle, smoky blue eyes glinting at her as he nodded and shifted, cradling her underneath him this time. "I'd love to."

_To Be Continued..._

Author's Note: Thank you to those who are reading my Spuffy-inspired erotica series, CrossRealms by S.C. Principale and the fantasy/romance series The Mer by M. Culler. A new romance Searching Hearts by M. Culler released Feb 1st!


	4. Part IV

**Warm **

**By Sweetprincipale**

California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to: Brokenblackrose89, Mistress of Dragons, Pentastic, PGoodrichBoggs, Ardynn, Battered Child, Kayana M, and David Fishwick. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

**Part IV**

Buffy's eyes fluttered shut as she felt him slipping on top of her. Not inside, not yet, but soon. "You want this, Slayer?" His voice was a distraction in the blissful break from the heat.

"Mmm," her voice was a moan, her hips insistently moving with his.

"Look at me?" Spike knew he was ruining the moment. All the moments were already tainted by the past, he just wanted to make something good, something new- and he couldn't let go.

Green eyes looked up at him, not shy, not seductive, simply steady. "You're hard to miss. You're all I want to look at. I could look at you for days…" Buffy ran her hands possessively over the body on top of hers. Long, lean, white muscles, twists of spine, angles and planes of shoulders and jaw, tight legs, tight arms, holding himself above her.

_I said I was above him. Now he's above me. I looked down on him, all hard and mean and "You're beneath me." I would never, I said. It would never be him._ _And now… oops. _

_Double oops_. He was talking to her, looking at her with such concern, stroking back her damp hair and kissing her flushed forehead gently, peering into her eyes.

"Huh?"

"I said 'I know all the things we said, but this is the last exit, Baby.' You do this, and you're not going back. Do you wanna get off this ride? Go back?" _Back to a place where you hate me and I love you, but that's better than both of us hating both of us, which is what's likely to happen, cute truces and signed papers or not._

"No. I wanna go forward. New place. Away from all the bad and the fire and the hell. Take me someplace new. Vacation time."

"I like the tropics," he admitted. "The sun is in your smile, the heat you give me, Luv…"

"I grew up in California. I wouldn't mind going some place cooler. I liked the ice. I liked to skate. Like it cool. Ice cream on hot days. And… popsicles. I like popsicles." Her fingers trailed down his back and moved around to the front, eyes blurry as she looked at the sparse dark hairs at the base of his torso and the thick white length now in her fist. "Let's go."

_Maybe that's as romantic as it gets when you're former sworn enemies and currently skating about on the portal to Hell. _"Let's go."

She guided him in as he pushed past her palm. She breathed out and he breathed in, lips brushing, then sticking, staying, bodies uniting.

"Fuck, Buffy, sweet bloody h hhhhh…" Spike gasped and couldn't find words to match the sensations as he felt himself breach this sweet little fortress. He shook the way you do after being out in a blizzard and suddenly finding yourself in front of a roaring fire. "Fuck, Slayer, burn me up you will." Tightest, warmest paradise, and when the girl said, "Let's go" well, she bloody well meant it. No build up with this one. She was starving, no, burning, and he could put the fire out. Her legs went up over his, back arched, breasts pushed up and they writhed together, bodies making sense when sick and scarred minds could not. "My girl is on fire…"

"Spike," she moaned, head thrashing pleasurably. "Not gonna burn you, because you're too cold. Oh, so perfectly cold, yes, cold!" Cold and thick,_ thick_ cock pushing apart dripping hot walls. No one had ever filled her this way, or connected with her like this. It was snug and a little painful for a second, but the escape from the fever was so instantaneous that it paled and disappeared in seconds. When she said "Let's go" she meant it. This was going into battle, fighting something inside her, maybe something she'd been wanting as well. No tentative, no slow. _Spike charges in with me. He always has, against or for, he knows how to fight. He knows how to love, too. Gives it everything he's got. _

_I like everything he's got, and I'm pretty sure every inch is inside me. Yes. Want Spike. Want_ this_ Spike, the Spike I can see now. My vision is a little blurry, but a lot of stuff is clearer. _She pulled back from the hungry kisses she was exchanging with him to inform him in a happy babble, punctuated with little nibbles to his jaw, "I want this. I told you I did and I was right. You'll just melt and then you'll melt in me and it'll be awesome." Buffy let out a raspy, ragged sound that was part of relief and part pleasure. "You get what you want, I get what I want. We are very… what's that word when things go together?"

"Complementary?" he shifted inside of her but didn't get far. He didn't complain about the fact that she clung to him as if she'd been painted on. Dru's hands had often had the grip of madness. This was the grip of certainty. He regarded her, nose to nose, sure this revelation would be shared.

And what did his girl say?

"That's a good word, but not what I wanted. I know. Twinsies. And we both dye our hair."

He jerked his head back. "Slayer!"

"What?"

"Well… I was gonna… I didn't expect you to say that just then," he concluded lamely, reminding himself that sick brains can feign certainty very convincingly.

"Oh. Sad now?" Buffy pressed her hands with their swollen skin to his cheeks, steadying his head above hers.

"Not sad, Pet," he lied.

She bit his lower lip smartly, drawing blood, kissing it off while still looking into his eyes. Down below, Spike's cock jumped hard and hit a nerve cluster that previous suitors had failed to locate. _Mental note- Spike likes bites. Duh. Vampire. _

"Mm, Slayer… Can we play?" If he was lying, might as well do the whole bit, smug bastard- but sensitively smug bastard.

"We can play. But no more lying. You lied to me. You were sad. I thought you wanted me."

"I do! So much. But I know it's not for the same reason. You want to feel the cold, and I want to feel the burn- this kind." He placed her hand over his chest, above his stilled heart.

"I want you. I want this Spike. Not beneath. Not above. Well- 'sex above' is okay…" She twined her fingers through his hair and slid the other one down his chest, over stiff, small nipples, making him moan.

"Want me?"

"Mhmm. By my side. Battle with. Not against." Words were brief by necessity. Air was escaping, sweat pooling.

"I will. With, not against." He wasted no time in sealing the promise with a kiss, but quickly broke the contact. His girl was shivering. Shaking. Convulsing? "Slayer?"_ Is this how Slayers cum? I mean, she'd probably send me into a full-blown seizure, way she's wrapping her tight little slit around me, pumping me, rolling under me, those hips… _He grunted out a sound of pleasure.

"Don't stop." Heat was draining out of her. Color, too, skin no longer the burnt peach, fading to a deeper-than-normal golden tan.

"I think we need to stop. Not sure this is normal."

"Nothing is normal here, nothing is normal today. But I feel better. Lucid. Happy. Oh, fuck, yes… very happy," Buffy groaned as he resumed moving inside of her. "Also- what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'll bite you in a minute!" he snarled against her shoulder, eyes burning into hers from the side, irritation on the lips that had just been kissing her.

She took his threat complacently. "Can't. Cooties."

"There is nothin' wrong with me, other than you." She screwed him up, and this town screwed him up and over, this town he kept returning to, for her. He rutted in her vigorously, as if heaping his frustrations upon her- and just like their wonky truces, found out she was giving just as good as she got.

"Vampires take. Don't care who they hurt. Do you like this?" Buffy asked breathlessly, squirming under him, letting her hips do all the work for a minute, loving the look of utter bliss on his face as her pussy milked him.

"I'm not an effing statue, of course I like it," he hissed.

"So, there's something wrong with you." Buffy slowed. "You care."

"I know that bit! Thought you did, too."

"You care if I'm okay, even if you like what you're getting out of it."

"Slayer, you know all this- you just wouldn't let yourself b'lieve it," he gave up with a dark chuckle.

"Yeah… but sometimes I need to see something a couple times before I get it. Like math problems."

"I'm a sodding math problem now?"

"Spike cold, Buffy hot, equals warm, remember?" she laughed lightly.

"You're still shaking."

"I think I'm getting back to the right temperature."

"Your sentences make more sense."

"Good. But, still- can we shut up now?" _Distracting vampire. Considerate vampire. Spike. Spike is… Spike. No more calling him "vampire." Not _just_ vampire, anyway._

"That seems to be impossible," he quipped. "Never managed to shut you up for long." _Unless she was knocked out- an' that can't happen again, not if I can help it._

"Hmmm. I think I have a plan. Leave you speechless. And my mouth will be full."

* * *

"Even when you're delirious, you're bloody brilliant," Spike whimpered. That was the last thing he said for several minutes.

Buffy made a muffled noise of agreement. Her pussy missed the attention of his hardness, but her mouth was delighted with her treat. He lay on his back, she sat astride his chest, head bending low to suck and slide him in deeper and deeper into her mouth.

He seemed to realize this. Poor thing was hurting in different places, trying to relieve all her pain at once. Happy to help, he smirked as poked her perfectly round cheeks and made her raise her hips automatically. Two thrusting fingers entered her, moaning as tight walls instantly grasped his fingers. "You're a marvel. Hottest, tightest little tunnel. Could come in you and never leave."

"Supposed to shush," Buffy gasped, lifting her lips off of him. "Also- you didn't cum yet. I'm working on it. You're not helping."

"Don't need help to do that, Pet, need help delaying it." Spike twitched in her fist and let out a startled cry as she did a 360 degree turn on him, hips now above his knees, eyes boring into his as she slid her mouth down his length again.

"Who said you have to delay?"

In case it's over after this, he thought, but didn't say. "Got a reputation. Stamina, strength, all that."

Buffy's eyes shifted, something sad and wary in their depths for a split second.

He still caught it, always fast when it came to watching her every move. Her reputation isn't about that when it comes ot sex._ What'd she say? You'll hurt me later. Tell me I was a slut. That I wasn't good. That I don't know how to make a real man happy, or a real demon. _"You could have me gone in seconds, Slayer. Buffy. Just looking at you… when you look at me while we're…" he groped for the proper term, hot but not crude.

Buffy didn't seem to care about blunt. "When your cock is in my mouth? Or other places?"

"Yeah," he gasped out. "When you look at me…"_ I can pretend you love me. I can tell you want me, that's a start. _

"Why didn't you say so? I could look at you forever. Didn't I already say that? You're all I want to look at. I could look at you for days? I thought I said it out loud."

"You did, Luv."

_Then I'll look. We'll watch. Showtime._

* * *

She bobbed on him expertly, never moving her eyes from his, barely blinking. He kept losing the battle to keep his eyelids open as tidal waves of pleasure engulfed him, her warm, wet mouth sucking him from root to tip and then back down, fist at his base, squeezing him tight. His head would tilt back with the moans she dragged from him, but each time he lifted his head, her eyes were still there, attached to his gaze.

_God, he's so pretty. My snowman. Snow vampire. All cool skin and white ripples, then this little patch of shadow. _She ran her fingers through the crisp, dark hair, then dragged her nails slowly down one thigh, still watching him tremble and twitch, moan her name.

"Slayer… Fuck, Slayer…"

"Buffy. Say Buffy for now," she told him without further explanation.

_Buffy is real. Buffy was there first, before the Slayer_. "My Buffy's so good at this. So good to me," Spike purred as her tongue lapped his slit and pre-cum slipped from him.

"Mmm. Sweet." She dragged her tongue slowly from the bottom of his tip to the top, lips locking around it at the end, hand tightening around his shaft and pumping.

"Gonna cum for you, Sweetheart. In your pretty little mouth," he spoke in short, harsh bursts. "Or your pussy. Where?"

She spoke between bobbing her head against him, loving the feel of his hands kneading her scalp, tenderly lifting hair back and off her flushed skin."Here first." Her throat felt better. All of her felt better after being around him. Another lift of her head, "I haven't done that before."

"What?" There was no way in hell she hadn't done this. _No one_ is that gifted.

"Mouth. I mean, it was like getting ready. Not finishing. Down _there_ was the main event." She shrugged. "But I'm doing good. I can tell."

"That's right. You're fucking amazing- at- this," he had to take short catch-breaths as she resumed her antics on his about-to-burst cock, "and don't you forget it. Don't let anyone- ever - oh, fuck, tell you different. Fuck!"

"This is sort of fucking," she sliped off of him and back down with a wink.

"I love you," he said it with a smile and without the usual deep twinge of anger and pain that accompanied the word. _Playing with me. With her. Wanting each other. _

_ Is it wrong to love someone so much you wish they'd never get hurt, never get sick- and find them so much more agreeable when they're ill? Maybe when she gets better, this soddin' fever will have burnt all the bitch out of her. _

She kept her mouth on him, eyes up and dark with sudden desire, not the poison in her system. She knew she was entrancing him. Owning him. _Even sick… I'm powerful. Bring the vampire to his knees-_

Spike hissed and his hands tightened, one grasping hers as it dug into his thigh, one on her neck where it met the shoulder.

_Although I won't be using this method to incapacitate others. Man, my vocabulary is on point when I'm sick. Or is it just around Spike? He's actually… really good with words. Good with a lot of things. Spike… is good?_

Her gasp of surprise coincided with something spasming down his spine. He suddenly roared out a loud, reverberating sound that died off with a groan.

She was finally rewarded. _It _is _cold- not ice cold. Cool water cold. Slightly bitter but- hmm. I like. I could like. But it takes a lot of work to get- so-_

Spike winced pleasurably as she kept swallowing around him, her mouth milking him as he emptied. The heat and the tightness, Slayer strength and the passion innate in her- it was the best he'd ever experienced, and he'd experienced plenty.

"That's better. Ohhh. That's like- good. It's kind of thick. But not_ too_ thick. It coats nicely." Buffy licked her lips thoughtfully as she sat on her haunches, pink toes neatly curled and tucked under her wiggling bottom.

He was panting and dizzy. And she was talking about his cum like she was trying to decide on the merits of oil paints versus water colors. "Glad you approve," he laughed softly. "You can have all you want, Sl- Buffy."

"It was a lot of work, though. But… that did mean more cold-Spike parts in my throat. Which is down from boiling over to simmering."

"Mhm. Well, let's see if we can get you down to a still water, Luv. The kind," he pulled her up and went for it, swooping her up and holding her close, lips to her ear as he shuffled her back underneath him, ready to worship her, "that runs deep."

_Spike deep inside. Deeeeeeep. He has such good moves and techniques. It's annoying when fighting, but awesome for sex. _"Yes, please. Maybe we-"

Her suggestion was cut off by the sharp, unwelcome jangle of the phone.

"Damn." Buffy swore without any vigor and grabbed it. "I'm naked but I'm in the house, are you happy?"

"Bloody hell, you better hope that's your Watcher and not some pervy old- wait…" Spike smirked and ducked an elbow.

"You're naked? Where is Spike? I thought you told me Spike was-"

"He's naked, too, it's totally fine."

"Buffy!" Giles yelped.

"SLAYER!" Spike roared and grabbed the phone. "Look, Watcher, don't you dare think I did a damn thing to her. She was burning up and kept taking off things and she kept telling me I had to take things off, too and…" He stopped. This didn't sound plausible. At all. Even if it were true.

"When Iget over there-" Giles' voice was a growl so low that Buffy turned to see what had suddenly caused the heating to malfunction.

"You can't hurt Spike. He's bringing my fever down. It's the only thing that works. I tried cold water and ice and everything. You know how when people have to put their bodies together not to freeze to death?"

"Buffy, Spike can't freeze to death!"

"No, but he's half-frozen and I'm half-burnt. We were perfect together. _Are._ Are perfect together. We make everything just right."

She was only talking about the temperature, but it made him purr with joy for a minute, pretending she meant everything else. "I didn't hurt her. Can't. An' she was wandering around half-starkers anyway. At least here she's got privacy. I'll try to shuffle her into a bathrobe and slippers before you come 'round, all right, Rupes? Will that protect your saintly eyes?"

Giles paused. He heard the martyred exasperation in Spike's voice. He knew that tone. He'd had it often when he first met Buffy, the Buffy who refused to listen, to take him seriously, who constantly got into danger and he had to swallow his heart on a nightly basis as it lodged into his throat. _Spike's at his wit's end with her, too. _

"He didn't do bad things. I promise. He's my helper. And he's cool. And he won't melt. Giles, all the ice melts." Her voice took on a whiny twinge, and then moved to outright pitiful, "I'm out of frozen bananas-"

Spike interceded, "Pet, don't. You'll give him a heart attack."

"Not for _that_! I have you for _that_. I want a smoothie now. Giles, pretty please with crossbows on top? Can you bring me some?"

"Well, er- no. I can't. That's one reason why I called. Buffy, have you listened to the news?"

"Um. No. It's usually pretty inaccurate in Sunnydale."

"In this one aspect they're correct. There is a state of emergency in Sunnydale. The roads are inexplicably sheets of ice. The windchill is below freezing and still dropping. People are being told to stay put. There are accidents everywhere-"

"We saw a bunch right around my house."

"-and people who are trying to walk from their wrecked cars to the nearest shelter have to be taken to the hospital for hypothermia and exposure- "

"I thought that was only in cold water." Buffy walked to the window. An ambulance was parked crookedly in the intersection. No one was in it. Her stomach twisted. _People need my help. I need to get better, I have to help. _

"What? No, any extreme cold for prolonged time can lower body temperature. Buffy, listen. The phone lines are mercifully still up and the power is holding. The governor says to shelter in place, stay off the roads at all costs. The National Guard is sending in tanks that are supposed to be able to handle ice and steep inclines. If Spike tries anything-"

"I won't!"

"He won't."

"Well, if he does- subdue him. I _will_ find a way over there if needed."

"Not needed. You need to do the whole thing with the books and the magic and stuff to figure out how the frozen hellmouth and my burning up are linked, because I think they are."

"To that end, I have been researching and the Council actually made some valuable suggestions on where to look- for once. I think- well, I'd rather tell you in person. I also think that despite your reassurances, I prefer _not_ to leave you alone with a nude, albeit chipped, vampire."

"It's Spike. He looks _awesome_ nude. I mean, if it was that stinky guy who stabbed me a while ago, with the 80s hair and leather vest- oh, gag. I'm already sick enough, Giles! Why did you bring that up?"

Behind her, Spike chuckled in a self-satisfied way at her praise and the Watcher's stuttering protests.

Shaking her head to clear horrific images, Buffy continued in her blunt, illness-induced way that Spike was becoming very fond of. "Anyway, how the heck are you going to get here? You can't drive. Are you commandeering a tank?"

"I think he might. Ruthless, for a librarian," Spike muttered, running his hands lightly over her back. Wherever his cool fingers touched, her skin lightened for a minute, but as he trailed down, it reverted to a dark, burnt pink.

"I'll walk."

"You'd have to ice skate. I could lend you mine- but they so wouldn't fit. And you'd have to get here first, so…"

"I will find a way."

"Look, mate, you'll freeze to death. That'll kill her. You don't want her to die of grief, do you?" Spike interrupted, equally blunt. "I swear on a stack of whatever you want that I won't lay an unwholesome hand on her, won't do a thing she doesn't specifically request, and b'lieve me, I'm too cold to relish the idea of standing around in the altogether. As soon as she tells me I can cover up, I'm coverin' up."

The suspicion was palpable in Giles' sharp retort, "You seem oddly agreeable to all of this. Why aren't you-"

"_You_ try arguing with a sick Slayer who's half-out of her mind- but still brilliant- who can kill you with a careless flick of the wrist," Spike hissed, tossing in the addendum for Buffy's benefit.

Buffy looked wounded and leaned on him, chin pointing up, eyes like a sad hound. "I promised not to kill you. Don't you believe me?"

"Oh, I do, Pet. I swear it. Here, give me the pen, I'll write it down."

Giles shook his baffled head and then continued, "Walking _would _likely be foolhardy at this point. I've talked to your mother. All of them are safe. Traffic isn't allowed back into Sunnydale so all four of them are remaining at the hotel until the news says otherwise. When I called, I spoke to Willow and Tara as well, about the idea of Hell freezing over. Willow was able to pull something up on the accursed box-"

"What box?"

"He means the laptop," Buffy shushed Spike, hand to his lips, moaning softly when his tongue slipped over her sore fingertips.

"It's amazing what sacred texts have made their way to the internet. Listen to this, 'Should the fires of Hell be pooled into her chalice, she shall burn the gates and doors, she shall open the 9th Gate and see her way clear. What shall be left is winter's desolation, consuming all with the ice that burns as sharp as fire."

Buffy tilted her head. "We don't have a gate."

"The 9th Gate is a reference to the gates of Hell. Glory wants to open a doorway to her hellish dimension. She can't find the Key. She is trying a ritual to 'burn' the gates and doors. One that is locked, apparently."

"So… she takes the fires of the Hellmouth?" Spike pieced together. "And puts them in a chalice. Is that metaphysical or literal?"

"That was my bit of research," Giles preened slightly. "It's both. I found reference to a Chalice of Brimstone. It says it can be wielded by great evil, a servant of the most low, the kings of the lower depths. I'm guessing queens and goddesses would be in that group as well."

"Sexist," Buffy muttered, now nibbling on Spike's wrist in turn.

"Erhm. Yes. Archaic. Anyway, the 'Chalice of Brimstone must be filled with the blood of an innocent taken at the gates'- someone was likely killed over the Hellmouth in the ruins of Sunnydale High. 'The fire shall pool and in its place the frost will creep, three days shall it wax until it reach its full."

"What the hell? Who waxes for three days straight? That is one majorly hairy piece of glassware."

"Slayer- it means it shall grow. That tracks. Started getting dark and cold three days ago, and it's only getting colder."

"The blood of the greatest evil shall be put into the greatest good, filled with the pain of fire. The blood of the mighty be taken and consumed. Once burned through, the Chalice shall be drunk."

There was silence. "Slayer?"

"Me? The blood of the greatest evil-"

"Glory's blood. She is worse than an evil demon, she's an evil goddess. Perhaps her minions' blood. Somehow they are connected. They spilled your blood and took it. They infected you with theirs, with hers, with whatever links you to this spell."

"I'm burning up? Like, I could actually go up in flames?" her voice shrank.

Silence again.

Spike's voice was blunt. "You wouldn't sound this calm if there weren't some loophole, something she could do. What is it?"

"Ah, yes. This part. I don't know entirely what it means, but I have ideas. 'Should the Chalice be drunk before blood burned away, should it be drunk as blood be cooled, destruction shall come upon the drinker and all his endeavors."

"So, if Glory drinks before I'm dead- and she figures I'm going to be dead oh… right about now- she'll die? Be destroyed, and her endeavors, too?"

"Yes. But say that she waits, if you're cured, presumably the blood of yours will reflect that- somehow tied to your life force, knowing you are 'burnt out' or not. Should she drink that 'cooled' blood, that will undo her as well."

"I'm cooler when Spike touches me. He helped my -"

"Shhh!" Spike gave her a frantic shake of his head.

"My temperature go down some." Buffy rolled her eyes. Like she would tell Giles about nummy intimate Spike-pops. Then Giles would think about her having sex, then she might have to think about Giles and sex and she would pass out. "But it goes back up when he's not holding me."

"Holding you?"

"He was almost frozen to death. He had black lines under his skin."

"Frozen blood," Spike supplies, shuddering at the memory. "I'm a bit warmed up now, although nowhere near a normal human temperature. Not even approaching room temp at the moment."

"Which is wonderful…" Buffy sighed and shimmied all over him, rubbing belly and breasts against him in a sinuous arc that would have been seductive -if she weren't simultaneously holding the phone and trying to look out the ice-coated window at the same time.

"Did you say frozen blood?" Giles voice was halting and soft, as if afraid to be hopeful.

"Yes, and it hurts like a bitch. Think you'll never be properly warm again, that you'll die like that, freezing inside, pins and needles jabbing through every vein- and you know it won't even end for you, you'll just keep suffering."

Buffy turned to him with full attention this time. This time, her body came against him with purpose, to heal him, heat him. Her arms twined around his neck and there was something warm in her eyes as they held his.

_Loving? Is that a loving gaze?_ Spike returned it, slowly letting his hand come up to join hers on the phone, heads meeting, lips brushing-

"Listen to this!" Giles' sudden burst of exuberance made them spring back- at least for the moment. "To quell the mighty one, the embodiment of good whose blood has been spilled-"

"Where did these spell-dudes go to school?" Buffy whined. "Where's the Cliff Notes version!? Where's the summary?"

"Shhh! - Let him imbibe the blood of the beings who are spawned in the lower depths, frozen in the Chalice's desolation."

"Say what?" Spike demanded.

"What?" Buffy parroted.

"One of those spawned in the lower depths- a demon! She must imbibe- drink, the blood of a demon who has suffered from the desolation. The freak ice storm!" Giles did a little dance in front of his bookshelves, twirling in his Oxfords, hands flinging about in triumph because no one was there to mock him.

"Can you stop dancin' about and clarify a few things?" Spike drawled.

So much for a lack of mocking. "I can do my best."

"How am I supposed to get frozen blood of a demon?"

Spike spoke patiently, "Slayer. He means me."

"I know that!" Buffy _sort of_ knew that. She had stopped thinking of Spike as a demon in the last hour or two and started thinking of him as simply Spike, her partner in solving problems and adjusting body temperature. "I just meant- uh- he's not frozen anymore. And blood-drinking? Ew, no. Tried it with Dracula at the end of the summer and it sucked. Ha. That's funny."

"Yes, Luv, you're a laugh riot. It's no problem for me to get good and frozen again." _All right. Painful, but it was worth the pain to heal her. To save people. Okay, mainly to heal her._

"But it hurts you. And frozen blood? Does it- even flow? Can you bleed?"

"We'll find out."

"That's going to hurt you." Buffy shook her head, frowning.

"That doesn't matter. You could get better. You could clear off Hellbitch. That matters."

"Spike is right. Oh, Lord, that's unpleasant on the tongue," Giles smacked his lips and winced heartily, "but he is correct. While the pain is temporary, the results are worth it."

_I don't want to hurt someone I like. He took a long time to get warm. Why do I have to hurt him? I promised him I wouldn't hurt him. It's in writing! _"How am I supposed to-"

"I'll handle things," Spike said firmly. _Why's she so worked up? A nick with a knife? A bite if I can get one. A bit of a sting, and the throbbing afterward, pulses that race under your skin, make you pound like you're still alive. Mm. All part of the joys of being a vampire. _

She nodded mutely, eyes glossy in a whole new way.

"Oh, Pet. C'mere. Fix those sad eyes."

"I promised I wouldn't hurt you."

"I promised not to hurt you, either. I keep the promises I make, Buffy. It's for you. It won't hurt a bit."

When she smiled at him, eyes gleaming and glowing with something like… hope, hope in trusting someone again. "Promise?"

"I promise, Baby. I promise." He wrapped his arms around her as hers locked around him.

The phone clunked to the floor and they ignored the soft, distant voice on the other end as it murmured, "Call me back soon. I'll… I'll give you some privacy…"

To be continued…

* * *

Thank you again to all the awesome readers! If you like erotica, I recently wrote a new short erotica piece, Vampire in Vegas by S.C. Principale. It's still sweet, but it goes into more smutty territory than I usually do here. I'd love it if you guys give it a try! (Free on Amazon Kindle Unlimited, cheap otherwise. Many thanks if you read it!)


	5. Part V

**Warm **

**By Sweetprincipale**

California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to: Brokenblackrose89, Mistress of Dragons, Pentastic, PGoodrichBoggs, Ardynn, Battered Child, Kayana M, David Fishwick, and Starlight Guardian. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

**Part V**

"You're not frozen. This won't work." _I should _want_ this to work_. But some part of her was balking. _Save the world, sure. Don't hurt the lover. _

_ Lover? Don't you have to love someone for him to be a lover? Or make love? We had some sex. We need to finish that. We got interrupted. Where did I put the phone?_

"Yeah, well-" Spike caught Buffy has her head swiveled in a woozy circle, confusion clouding her expression, "You're heating back up."

"There's the phone."

"You hang it up. I'll be back. Where's my coat?"

"Whoa, whoa! Where are you going?"

"To build an effing snowman, what do you think?" he said with a forced bit of edge to his voice. "Gotta get colder. There's a thing I never thought I'd say." He smothered a sigh. "Don't worry. You're my antifreeze aren't you?"

"I'll go with you."

"No! Not like that. I don't want you to go out in this," Spike protested.

"I'll put on a coat. I'm coming with you. It won't hurt me. It might help."

"Slayer, if-"

"Didn't you tell Giles it was pointless to argue with me?" _Or did I dream that? Mr brain works better when I'm touching him. Gotta hold onto him. In more ways than one._

He sighed. When they came back- there wouldn't be sex. He couldn't tell her he loved her any more. She wouldn't sweetly accept it without an argument, an insult, or a denial. Wouldn't be this fun, strange, blend of affection and honesty. She'd be cured and he'd be glad. She'd probably avoid him, blushing like mad whenever they were forced to cross paths- if she didn't hide from him or kill him. His heart fractured like a thin sheet of ice on impact. "No bloody point at all. Let's go."

Buffy bounded to her closet and he grabbed his pants but ignored his boots. Freeze faster if your extremities were exposed.

She wrapped a faded green jacket around her that barely covered her rear. She stepped into cute pink rain boots and marched out of the room while he was calling for her to put on pants or a hat- something. She ignored him, striding down the hall. He groaned and yanked a stupid looking knit cap off of her desk- and one of the many torn pieces of note paper.

Buffy. Spike. Hearts next to their names. He crumpled it and stuffed it in his pocket. It was a nice truce while it lasted.

* * *

"Wait. I have an idea." Buffy skirted her hand under his open duster and rested it on his bare chest as he strode to the back door in the kitchen.

"All right." Gotta hurry. He didn't like the look of her at the moment. Even adding a single layer of clothing was causing sweat to pour down her brow, trickling over her eyes as she wiped her face with her sleeve.

"It's your blood that has to freeze in the 'desolation.' Can- can you just put the blood outside? Not y-you?"

"I dunno. I s'pose it's worth a try."

"I have to drink frozen vampire blood. Or chew- because you can't drink a frozen anything, it's solid. Only, I'm burning up so It'll melt and- that's just… stupid. Who thought of this?"

"Someone who wanted the bloody world to end, because no one would do this shit." He moved to the wooden knife block on the counter and selected the chef's knife. "Gimme a cup or bowl, Slayer."

"Buffy. Remember?" She unsteadily handed him a mug from the cupboard, wondering why her head was swelling again. Why her fingers were slipping on the ceramic, why he had to catch the cup and grab her by the elbow, too. "I'm Buffy and you're Spike. You're my… friend. I'm supposed to protect my friends. Letting you get hurt for me…" Why wasn't her voice working? Why was he so far away?

The knife and cup clattered to the counter as he snagged her before she hit the floor. Up in his arms and out the door, where sleet was now falling. "Watching you burning up hurts. Don't wanna hurt me, Baby?"

"Uh-huh," she agreed faintly.

"Then let me get you better. I told you, it won't hurt. Promise. Wanna seal it with a kiss?"

"Mmhm." Her limp arm gained strength as they stood in the gray wintery world outside. The sleet wasn't soft or snowy, it was hard and sharp like tiny stings. Spike's lips pressed to hers and she slid down his body, separating. _He'll never get cold if I stand with him, heating him up_. She pulled back with a sharp nibble, scraping over his lower lip.

The gesture reminded them both of something. "Slayer. Buffy?" He looked at the concern on her face and knew it was mirrored on his own. The fleeting thought had apparently crossed her mind, too.

"I bit your lip. I tasted blood. _Your _blood. I'm still sick."

"Maybe it wasn't frozen?"

"Maybe it wasn't enough?

"I don't know how much I have to give. An' I can't get any more at the moment." He looked uncomfortably at her. _We need each other. This is so bloody backwards, a Slayer needs the vampire's blood, the vampire can't bite her. We need each other. _

"I- it's been a long time since someone needed me like I needed them," Buffy whispered. Her hands came to her waist and nervously fiddled with the belt holding her coat shut. Underneath, she was naked and grateful for the freezing rain on any part of her exposed skin. She was considering taking it off and rolling in the snow- only this wasn't snow, it was thick, opaque ice, sleet adding slushy, crunching layers to it with every second. Didn't they roll in the ice and snow in Sweden? Or Switzerland? Some place with saunas and the naked running in snow and ice?

Spike hated every spit of ice against his neck, feeling any warmth he'd gained rapidly seeping out of him, toes first. Frostbite was practically guaranteed and vamps didn't grow back toes. He hated the creeping mortification of his otherwise undead body. But, he loved the way her eyes slowly climbed to his, waiting for - what? Rejection? That was his bit, not hers. "Same, Buffy. You an' me- we're the reliable sort, aren't we? Get the job done?" His hand fished into his duster pocket and retrieved a knife. "The sooner it's started, the sooner it's done." He shook the coat off and let it puddle into the white-gray land, bare feet finding sticking purchase on the frozen ground as she stood unsteadily. He noticed that a cloud of steam emanated from her. Not just when she spoke, like warm breath creating clouds of mist, but as if her whole body was generating heat that could stand against the sub-zero temps. "The sooner we start, the sooner you're better. I want that, Buffy. Do you get that? How much I want you to be all right again?"

"Want what's best for me?" she winced as the knife passed from hand to hand, moving toward a resting place against his forearm.

"Yeah, of course."

"Angel said that meant leaving me. So I could be normal. Riley said it was being a normal girlfriend- or he'd leave me. Wh-what do _you_ say it is?"

Spike hesitated. But why? He knew. He really did. "Bein' happy. Bein' with someone who loves you, helps you, won't leave you, won't change you."

She repeated his words slowly in her head, over and over. The ice left a wet, silver sheen on his bare chest. Slowly, the white tracks under his skin turned pale blue across his shoulders and and deep plum on the back of his hands. "That sounds good."

"Glad." Soon his fingers wouldn't form a fist. Soon his mouth would be frozen over. He'd never known cold like this, all-pervading, all-consuming, as cold as the fires of hell are hot, leaving no warmth.

Desolation.

_Without her, there is desolation. Hellbitch got something right._

She watched a single slice of silver against milk white before the blade fell to the ground. "Spike?"

"Get it." He hissed as best he could through locked jaws.

"Get what? Nothing is flowing. Or bleeding."

"_Take_ it."

Buffy moved toward him, wondering where the tipping point was, where her heat would thaw him, how much blood had to be consumed, and how would she even get it if nothing was moving? _How do you take something that won't give? How do you get something out that won't bleed when you cut it?_

_I could ask the vampire_. The cold dissipated the fog in her head. _I could simply act like the vampire._

Fever still held sway. "Sane" Buffy wouldn't do what she was about to.

_Well, look at my life. Look where they tried to put me. Nothing sane about this world, the truth is crazy._

_Spike speaks crazy fluently. And he's here, freezing into a solid statue because he doesn't care if it's crazy, it just has to get the job done._

"God, I love that about you!" Buffy exclaimed and lunged, teeth attaching with savage ferocity to his neck, breaking skin and sucking hard.

Bitter crystals in her mouth, accompanied by a harsh panting gasp in her ear that turned into a moan. Her hands clamped to his sides and his found their way under her jacket, cold fingers teasing taut, hot nipples and rapidly rising ribcage.

Nothing.

"Nothing?" She spat the leftover blood in her mouth out. Spike looked worse, she felt only slightly better, as she had whenever she used him as a giant ice-pack, and she was still creating a halo of heat. "It didn't work!" _Something so gross should work. Like, be _guaranteed _to work._

"Maybe you have to have more?"

"Vamps drain Slayers. Slayers don't drain vamps."

"Sometimes… sometimes you gotta do the effed up thing, Slayer."

_He'd give his life for me- or at least what passes for it._ She moved her lips back to his neck and sucked again, the moans he made speaking of pleasure, not pain. _Something so gross should not… seem less gross by the second. _He huffed out gasps against her, one hand suddenly digging into the fabric belted at her hand, rigidity melting from his fingers as he pressed them against her hot body, found the hottest spot next to her mouth.

"Yessss!" She moaned around the liquid as fingers stroked her. _Sex in a sleetstorm, blood and sex and… everything is wrong and so hot and maybe this is why vamps don't give a damn about right and wrong. Spike just cares about who he's with._

"We gotta stop. You're warmin' me back up. I didn't think that was possible in this weather. You do the impossible, Buffy." He tore his head from hers, hand from her, desperate as steam and sleet and sex surrounded them, some surreal landscape inside an evil immortal's snowglobe.

_How can he have so much faith in me? I'm crazy, and half-naked, and biting him, and- argh! But he thinks I'm gonna do it. And… _"I don't know what else to do. I- it's not working, Spike, it's not working," her voice was harried as she stepped back, wiping her lips with her hand. She took him by the arms and shook him. "I don't know what to do, but I am _not_ going to die from this! She can't win!" _Dawn_, she mouthed, afraid to say the word, afraid to cry, lest tears somehow freeze her eyelids over.

"Let's call the Watcher back, let me think a minute." Spike rubbed her back, bringing her in. He felt blood trickling down his neck and freezing on its surface in a sticky crimson line. Under her hand, the cut he'd fruitlessly made suddenly blossomed, dark red drops closer to black, moving down his arm, slow and syrupy.

"When I'm near you, I can think better." Buffy nodded shakily. "I'm not burning as bad. I can - bring it down, at least a little."

"I'll stay with you out here as long as you need me. Three days, three months, three years. If it keeps you cold and Hellbitch can't gain anything from her precious shot of Slayer blood… then that's what we'll do."

"She'll have to drink it soon, right? It said three days until it reaches it's full, whatever the hell that's supposed to-" Buffy suddenly stopped speaking. For the first time in hours, the throbbing in her hand went away. Not lessened, not paused, but completely, utterly vanished.

"I dunno exactly what the timeline is, but-" Spike picked up where she left off, only to be violently shushed by her.

"SHHH! Stop! Something happened. My hand doesn't hurt. My hand doesn't hurt,_ this _hand!"

Spike yanked her brandished hand up in front of his face. The hand that had been shaking his arm where it was slowly bleeding. "Slayer, what did you say about your hands earlier?"

"They did something to me. They cut my hands."

"The Slayer's best weapons," Spike realized, turning right hand and left hand over. Her left hand bore a single splotch of blood and as they watched, it seemed to sink into her skin like water sopped up by a thirsty sponge.

Her right hand was stiff and burning to the touch. Whatever they had infected her with had entered through the skin, not the mouth, blood mixed in wounds, not in sips. He pressed her swollen palm to the bite on his neck and let the heat from her bring the frozen blood to the surface and seep into its sacred destination.

"I think we put it on the wrong place. And I bet you those little scabs of hers knew about the whole 'antidote.' Imbibing my ice-covered ass!"

"Not your ass, your blood."_ Although- his ass is somehow very imbibable._ " Sneaky bastards," Buffy shuddered as her body seemed to drop in temperature, like a car shifting into the lowest gear abruptly after red-lining it. "Wanna help me kill them later?"

"If there's any left to kill after her plan blows up in her face and ruins all her 'endeavors.'" Spike smirked, trying to stay steady. Whatever little blood he had left in his system was running out and the demon would subsist on will alone. Subsist meant "not dust." It didn't mean a lot else. He hoped he didn't pass out on her. It wouldn't look very heroic, nor helpful.

"We can go in soon," Buffy promised, watching the smirk falter and the eyes twitch in panic before he could hide it.

"You s-seem to be talkin' a bit better." Spike's teeth chattered. _When does the bloody snow globe effect go away? Once Hellbitch drinks her brew?_

"I'm feeling better." Her muscles disagreed. They convulsed painfully, like runner's cramps and charlie horses were invading every part of her.

"Poison is getting fought off, absorbed, something."

"When did you eat?" Buffy's eyes suddenly focused in sharp definition and were able to hold it for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Bit ago," he answered evasively.

She remembered now. Remembered talking about truces and demanding to know what he needed, remembered that he needed blood first, warmth second, and she could only give him one because of her infection. _Now I'm taking all of his._ "I'll pay you back. I promise."

He nodded jerkily. _Pay me back for what? Saving her life? We do that sort of thing, even if it's been a bit unwillingly in the past. Very unwillingly. _

"Can you talk?" Her hands gripped his neck, tugged his arm, and they swayed, her from pain, him from weakness. _We're going to survive this. We're going to look really weak and helpless, just before we take down a god. A _god_._

"Yeah." He injected carelessness into his tone and smiled at her. The smile faded fast. S_hit. And hur-bloody-rah. Sane Buffy's back in business. I'm so happy._

_I'm so screwed. _

_Hold on, was that 'I'll pay you back' 'cause I'm nickin' all your blood or "I'll pay you back" - as in 'It's payback time'?"_

"I think we should take this inside." Her voice was precise and distant.

"It's flowin' enough, but it's - it's good and proper frozen where you aren't touching," he gasped as he felt his spine creak under her hand's guiding insistence.

_I can see that. _She turned her head as he staggered to get his coat, looking at the multitude of cobalt and ink running across him, like a cloak under his skin instead of over it. _A maze. So many veins, the body has so many veins, little highways of life that we never see… _

_I saw so much of Spike today. He saw so much of me. He shows me so many things. I told him so many things. _

_He listened. Held me. Good friend._ Her body trembled, but it was nothing compared to the sudden vibration in her chest. _ I let him in. Took him inside me. He did the same thing. Let me in._

She dragged him inside, or he pushed her. Either way, they were standing in the kitchen, door slammed shut and gusts of wind howling under it like an irritated banshee denied entry. Spike barely had time to gasp when she dropped his arm and grabbed the big chef's knife he'd had out earlier. _Sane Buffy is deadly Buffy. She's always deadly._

_Why do I find deadly women so fucking hot?_ "Slayer-"

"It's still Buffy," she hissed as she made a swift, shallow cut on her palm and slapped it down to his weeping arm.

"Buffy…" The scent of her was making his mouth water. Just when his knees were about to buckle from weakness and want, her mouth was slamming to his and the knife was skidding across his hand.

_Mixing blood. Take out the bad, absorb the good. _

_Wait. Spike's good?_

"So good," he panted against her, her nimble tongue sparring with his own as they seemed to try to devour each other.

"Yeah. You are."

Well, that brought a swift end to the proceedings. Spike reeled back, would have broken contact if she hadn't stubbornly retained his hand. "What did you say?"

"You're good. Good to me. You help me. Good friend."

Spike looked at her. "You're not well."

"You just now noticed?" Buffy laughed harshly.

"I mean it. Your color's gone wrong. You look- gray. You're sweating."

"I've been sweating all day!" She doubled over for only a second before forcing herself back up.

"This isn't fever sweat. This is poison. Believe me, I've seen it, the shaking, ashy color, short of breath."

"Losing the poison. The bad blood." Buffy suddenly laughed weakly, her voice raspy between gasping breaths. "I gave Angel- my blood. To heal him. Slayer blood. Heals almost any demon."

"I know." Spike wondered which of them would fall first. He wished he had a mirror- that it would work for him. She was a sort of bleached cement color and his arms were the pure white of fallen snow- with slowly dripping tendrils of red and streaks of blue.

She was still speaking, resisting his efforts to move them to chairs or even to lean on the kitchen island. "First time in history a vampire's blood heals a Slayer. You think?"

"Prob'ly. We excel at one-offs."

"Kiss me again?" Buffy smiled up at him, eyes fluttering shut.

"Kiss you forever, if you'll let me."

Buffy kissed him and didn't answer. Would she let him?

_Maybe. _

_Probably._

_Why is it so dark?_

_ Duh, my eyes are closed. _

_ This darkness is different._

* * *

She fell first. He toppled with her, holding her rapidly cooling body. "Buffy? Slayer!" Nothing. Breathing uneven and fast, color still rotten for a human. What the hell is the Watcher's number? he thought as he limply lifted her and hauled her to the couch. Stopped halfway and laid her on the dining room table with an apology.

_Dreamed about taking you on every flat surface. No fun if you don't want it, too._ "Buffy. Tell me Giles' number? The store? Is it written down somewhere? Oh, fuck, this is like bloody _Lassie_." He felt helpless, nudging and hissing, getting no answer.

Wait, he'd called. The Watcher had just called the was that thing now, Caller ID, that showed you the last number. He stumbled through the kitchen and grabbed the digital phone and looked at the screen. MGK BOX was above the number. "I owe you one," Spike breathed out reverently, eyes rolling skyward as he dialed.

* * *

Giles instantly seized the phone. "Buffy!"

"Spike."

"Where's Buffy?"

"Passed out. Fever's gone. Sort of. She doesn't look good. Are the roads any better? Can you get here?"

Giles opened and shut his mouth a few times. Spike was calling for help, help for the Slayer? "The roads are no better. State of emergency is still in place. What happened? Why is she unconscious?"

"Did what you said! What the flamin' book said! Frozen demon blood. Gave it to her. Mine. Outside, in the bloody blizzard, toes half-gnawed off by frostbite and blood stuck under the skin. But I gave it to her. She drank. Only- it didn't work. Then when she was shaking me, panickin' about how it wasn't working- the blood got on her hands."

"Her hands were terribly injured last night, gouges and slits all over the palms and backs. It had healed by the time I left- at least on the surface."

"Not so much underneath. She kept sayin' her hands and throat hurt, felt too bloody hot, felt sore. So, we tried something. Blood on her hands. Mine. Mixed with hers. Figured that the demon blokes hadn't made her drink it, they'd poured it into her somehow, contaminated her with it." He remembered her frantic hush, the joyous look as she flexed her hand against his skin, pulling his life force in to repair hers. "It worked. She started to cool off. She said her hand didn't hurt." _She said I was good. She asked me to kiss her. She said I was her friend. Good friend. _

Giles felt a knot in his stomach as he heard Spike's voice thicken, his drawl change to something like a whimper. "Now she's… I dunno. _Too_ cold? Cooled off too _fast_? Her color is awful. Her breathing is - I love the way she breathes, never notice it, but now that's gone wrong, I-" The thickness turned into a full on snarl in his throat and all he could do was cough through the tears that formed a tangle inside him.

The Watcher swallowed hard, forced his words to be harsh and fast. "It sounds like her body is still battling the supernatural infection, and what's more, she may have gone into shock. Keep her warm."

Spike yanked the phone from his ear and gave it a glare that nearly curdled the plastic. "Did I mention the frostbite and frozen blood? I'm a fucking popsicle." He tried very hard not to recall her using him like a popsicle, loving that aspect of his current predicament, Buffy slurping on him with affection and laughter in her eyes, the lilt in her voice, the way their hands clasped. _Lose it all on the same day I had it. Like wishes. Gone if you let anyone know about 'em. _

"Get her into a hot bath and keep her head above water. Call me back when she wakes. I'm going to call Willow. Perhaps there's some way that teleportation -"

"That's risky. Hellbitch is bound to be looking for strong magic around the Slayer, right?"

"Yes, dammit. I suppose we're stuck in limbo for now. Until Glory tastes that concoction…"

Silence held sway, making her uneven breathing echo in the quiet house.

Giles spoke softly, "Get her warm. This wild fluctuation in body temperature can't be good for her. And yes, I know, it's not good for you, either, but at least you're not going to die from it."

"I didn't say a damn thing about what happens to me! I care what happens to her! I'll get her back. I'll get her back, then call you back." Spike slammed down the phone and walked woodenly to the table.

Buffy was sprawled on it, coat half undone, one boot missing. She looked- helpless. He hated that look. "Now listen," he hauled her up with a pisspoor attempt at his usual sweeping strength and coordination, "when the bitch drinks her brew, she's gonna ride the rocket out of here. Then we celebrate, right? I'm thinkin' we do champers and blood. You might even want a sip of the red stuff, now that you've had the goods from yours truly." He waited for her to roar back to life with an annoyed, disgusted cry of "EEWWW" and a smack on his head. Nothing. This was serious.

"I'm gonna have to get you warm. Your boss said so. Your _boss_, Slayer." He hit the last word harder than the others. Not a twitch. "How the hell am I gonna get you warm when I'm a frozen fish stick beside you?" he mumbled as he climbed the steps, figuring he'd pray Joyce had an electric blanket and if not, he'd pull every quilt in the place and pile 'em on her.

As he passed the bath, the Watcher's words reasserted themselves in his spiraling mind. "Right, into the tub. You want bubbles, Pet? I'd give you bubbles. Rose petals. Let's do that, huh? Bubbles and champagne when her royal lowness kicks off? Promise you a good time. But you can't die. If you die, she wins."

_When she drinks- she's in for a world of pain. When would that be? By sundown? After dark, marking the end of the third day? How many hours was that?_ His internal clock was all screwed up with the sun and moon missing under a haze of gray clouds. He imagined it must be late afternoon by now.

He turned the tap on to full hot and sat her on the edge of the tub, propped against him. She jerked and shivered letting out a pitiful groan as her legs touched the cool porcelain. "Easy now, it'll be warm in a second."_ If the damned plumbing holds when I need it. What if the hot water heater went out? What if the pipes froze?_

"I'd say we move someplace tropical, Luv, just you and me, but even sunny Cal can't escape the ice queen. Used to think that was you. Not anymore. You're so good at it, Baby. Heat me up, you do." Spike kept up the constant stream of conversation, one-sided though it was. He pulled off her remaining boot, tugged her coat off and felt the urge to protect her naked form, not leer at it lustfully. He swished the water around her legs as he settled her into the shallows. "Hope I'm doin' this right…"

His fingers burned on contact with the water, feeling returning. His hands and hers left pink streaks that faded and then he pulled the lever to close the drain.

"You gotta be okay. What good is savin' the world if you're not in it?" his voice was tender as his lips pressed to her forehead. "Stubborn bint," he hissed as he sat back, worry on his face.

* * *

Words and waterfalls. Buffy heard them. Her body and mind were angry at each other. Wouldn't work together. _No more playdates, too bad if we have to share a Slayer._

Her throat didn't hurt. Her hands didn't hurt. Her body ached and was made of rubber bands pulled too tight. She was a ragdoll, flung and dropped and bumped and dropped again, onto something so cold on her already bare, cold body that had once been a hot, burning body. Her system couldn't keep up. It closed shop.

But her ears still worked. Spike was talking. Arguing, insulting, promising, whispering.

_Roses and champagne and bubble bath. Romance. _

_ We have a truce. We should add romance._

_Is that truceful? _

_The truce was "make warm." But I'm cold now. And he's cold. Something failed._ "I always- fail."

"Buffy! Slayer!" Wet hands were gripping hers, a freezing block of skin and muscle was sliding against her, making her shudder.

_Oh. Spike's hugging me_. She wanted to hug him back. She felt her arms jerk, but fail to rise.

"You never fail. You get beaten sometimes. That happens to every fighter. Makes 'em lucky if you never take a hit. You get back up and win the next battle- _that _makes you a warrior. Hero. My hero," Spike gently ran his fingers through her hair, tenderly over her scalp, gently tracing the smooth lines of her profile until her eyes opened.

Clear eyes, but tired. Sane Buffy. His hand hesitantly fell back.

"You're cold, too." Her voice was faint, but gaining strength.

"I know. Not helpin' matters when I touch you." He fought down the selfish voice in his head that begged to touch her longer, touch her lower, fingertips over her smile, down her beautiful breasts that swelled, tight beads of pink flesh crowning them as they hovered above the rising water. Lower still, to a place that burned him even in a supernatural snowstorm.

"You _do_ help matters. Spike matters."

"Sweet of you to say so," he whispered and hesitantly rose.

She found the strength to sit up, shuddering hard, teeth clacking as she tried to grit them. "Get in here."

Spike straightened up all the way, weaving ever so slightly. "I'll cool it down."

She tried to rise and couldn't. Less than a day ago, heck even last night, the idea of sitting nude and semi-helpless, unable to stand in front of Spike would have filled her with rage and self-loathing, humiliation and embarrassment that she might never unload. Now?

_Spike loves me and helps me. So… when he sees what I need, he'll do it._ She held her hand up.

It wavered and shook slightly with strain, but he seized it immediately. "Don't stand up, baby. Your legs'll go."

"Get in here," she repeated, fingers wrapping around his. "Please."

One hand continued to latch through hers, the other slowly went to the brassy button of his black jeans, soaked from the sleet, wrapped around him like a drenched second-skin. He shucked them off.

"This is a familiar view." Buffy's voice was soft, but her smile was present. Spike above her. Thick, cold cock starting to stiffen and jut as he stood outside the tub and she huddled inside it.

"We're not gonna do that now."

"But we are once she dies. Roses and champers and blood. For you, not me." Buffy tugged gently as he stepped in. "Well… I'll take the roses, you can have the booze and the blood."

"Slayer, champagne is hardly booze," he rolled his eyes. Then, her words registered. "You heard me. And you want to?"

Buffy tried to rise and huffed angrily when her dumb knees failed to work. "Yeah. I heard you. And… I want to celebrate with you. I told you. You wrote it down. That no one hurts. It doesn't end after one time. Although I fully admit that I failed on not hurting you." Her fingers traced gently over his arm with its scored skin, squeezed his hand with its split palm. She blinked. "You didn't hurt me."

"Chipped." _No! Idiot. Why would you tell her that? That's all she'll ever-_

"That had nothing to do with being chipped." It didn't. She usually gave credit to the chip. The chip made him reign in his urge to beat the crap out of people due to fear of his own pain. It did nothing whatsoever about taking care of a loopy Slayer and resisting her feverish advances. _Shit. I advanced all over Spike like an invading horde. Or whore. Or slut._

_Oh, holy crap. Penis-cock. _

"You're right. I'd take any amount of pain rather than give you any. Now. Know it used to be different. You gave us a chance to- what's wrong?" Spike knelt in the cramped space, knees hovering over her ankles, hand going back to her face.

"I- uh- I'm definitely not feeling great, but I'm thinking clearly. Remembering clearly."

"Oh." He tried to retreat, but there wasn't a ton of room in the narrow tub. His head bent, eyes off of her. "I'm sorry. I love you and I loved what we did, but I know that you're probably-" his voice faded as her hand feebly twitched on his, a steady little kneading sensation. Not the action of a pissed off Slayer. Maybe an embarrassed one. Spike swallowed, the worry that left when she woke suddenly replaced by a new sort of fear, one that had come and gone since he'd followed her up the stairs."D'you hate me? More than before?"

"No. I like you. A _lot_ more than before."

He let out air and his legs collapsed, no more hovering. He fell forward, head stopping short of smacking into hers-but putting his face inches away.

Her face was one of those colorized vintage photos, whit-ish gray with bright spots of color from her blushing cheeks and the pale pink in her lips. "I didn't know I could like you any better, what with fallin' in love with you an' all. But now I do. It's mutual."

"Truce continues?"

"Permanently. I'll write it down." Blue eyes twinkled and met heavy-lidded green.

"Maybe you could wait a few minutes before you find that paper." Buffy let go of his hand and moved her palms up over his shoulders. Scalding water was surrounding them, but both seemed to barely feel it. "We should -uh- finish the terms of the first treaty. Terms. That's a treaty thing, right?"

Spike nodded jerkily. "You warmed me up fine. I cooled you down the best I could. We- we met terms. Don't owe me a thing."

Even in the post-fevered, still-sort-of-shocky haze, Buffy had one of her blindingly clear moments. _I owe something to _everyone,_ for not being the perfect daughter, the right kind of Slayer, the normal kind of girlfriend. I feel that way at least. I feel it most with guys. That I owe them what they want, gotta meet the expectations of being all Slayer, or all normal, or faking the interest or faking the disinterest… _Her stomach did an unfamiliar swoop, one she hadn't felt in nearly a year. Happiness. Happiness in spite of everything.

"You make me happy, you know?" Buffy whispered, and pulled his mouth to hers.

He suddenly scooped her up. His hands were fumbling to switch from filling the tub to the shower's spray. Just as he thought they'd regained equilibrium, they crashed against the wall, his legs weak from starvation and cold, eyes blinking under a sudden onslaught of water. He was gasping and shaking, utterly graceless. He didn't give a damn.

She didn't, either. His words rang in her head as she closed his mouth with her kisses. _Bein' happy. Bein' with someone who loves you, helps you, won't leave you, won't change you._

He tried to pull back- which was hard as her fingers clawed into his plastered platinum hair. "This isn't warming you up. Swore to Watcher I'd get you in a hot bath and bring you back."

"Mission accomplished. The bath is hot. I'm back."

"Not one hundred percent." Holding her, he could feel the tremors he couldn't see, feel the heartbeat that wouldn't settle, rapid and thready.

"Neither are you. Hm. What are you? Fifty percent?"

Spike arched an eyebrow, forehead to hers._ Can't believe she's letting me hold her like this. Can't believe she just wrapped her legs around my waist. Oh._ Ohhh. "We gonna do more math, Slayer?" His hands slipped over her rear, palms kneading her delectable cheeks. He settled for an extended nuzzle and stopped himself short of pulling her onto his hardness.

"I'm only at half strength, too. Maybe a little more."

"I'm probably a lot less."

"Together…" she tried not to gulp around the words. Together had been a longed-for word, a scary word that fell apart when you tried to make it tangible.

_Together. Most beautiful word. Most missed word._ "Together?" Spike nudged his lips to hers gently as he formed the word.

"Together we could make it to that one hundred percent. Together we could be m-more than just the right temperature." _Oh God, what am I saying, what am I saying… _

"Together, we could be just right." He made it a statement, not a question. In his head, he knew it was a bloody huge question. Maybe stating it flat out wouldn't fly with the most powerful woman in the world, who oddly enough seemed to have so many people trying to boss her about.

Buffy nodded eagerly, heads jostling, lips reuniting. _Thank you, God, yes, he gets it._ He didn't make her say everything. He didn't leave things unsaid, either. "It doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't have to make sense to be true." He loved to talk to her, loved to hear her openly confide in him, especially now when things weren't said in desperation. However, words were only one way of talking and his body was no longer hesitant about joining the conversation.

Spike's cock shifted. He struggled to keep her up in his arms and she clung to him, arms wrapping around his neck, wet chest slipping against his own. Then, she pushed herself down, but not onto him. "Am I better?"

He bit back a groan. Her sweet warmth brushed him without enveloping him. "Definitely."

"You fixed me."

He smiled. "You weren't broken, Pet."

"The infection, the poison. Your blood fixes it. Fixes me. Not fever-y." Her smile was brighter, her color blooming back across her skin. Spike nodded. He looked the same, practically blending into the white tile aside from his bright blue eyes. "I think it's gone."

"Good, Baby."

"So, I'm safe."

"Yep. Gonna stay safe and-" Spike stopped speaking as her finger tip poked its way into his mouth. He spoke around it, mumbling and torn between spitting it out so he could speak and sucking on it and showing her whole new erogenous zones. "Buffy, you sure you're good?" Feverish Buffy was more likely to go about shoving parts of herself at him.

"You're supposed to taste me and find out."

His arms dropped, but then grabbed her back quickly. "I love how you taste." He kissed her finger, kissed her wrist and her palm. Hesitated. "I tasted you lower. Sweeter."

"If you could live on that particular fluid, I'd let you. Man, I'd be your three meals a day. Plus snacks."

"That's still an option. Make me the offer." He winked, kissing her shoulder now. Only to get her hand smacked against his mouth. "Luv, you gotta stop shoving parts of you at me." He crossed his eyes as if looking at his treacherous tongue. "Forget I said that. Scratch that."

"Exactly." Her hands were weak for a Slayer, but strong enough. He watched her rake her own fingers hard down her arm. Blood welled up. "Taste. You need it."

Spike's eyes narrowed. His head pulled back- and kept on going, along with the rest of him..

Buffy gasped as he skidded down the slick wall and careened onto the floor. With her recently acquired lack of inhibition, she followed, nimbly straddling him, arm to his mouth, eyes locked on his. "It's going to get washed away if you don't. Just a waste. Unless you don't think it's safe. I wouldn't be pushy. Oh my God. I'm being totally pushy. But you're a vampire and you're hungry and you saved me and - so- guh! Spike, if you seriously make me beg you to-oh. Ooooh." His tongue lathed up her scratches, sealing them after. "How did-"

"Vampire saliva heals cuts."

"That's handy. That's _so handy_! Why didn't anyone tell me that? Also- now you don't get any more, it's stopped."

Thoughts rolled through his brain, explanations, excuses, awed thanks, words of love. He wanted to say the thing least likely to cause arguing- or for her to leave his body. "I didn't need much. Feel fine. You taste- strong. Sweet and strong. Your insides match your outsides."

"Unless Ethan Rayne throws a cursed Halloween costume on me."

Spike winced, recalling all too well the way she looked at him with wide, helpless eyes and trembling lips. Not the good kind of trembling. "Sorry. I was a bloody fool, Slayer, I-"

She didn't wave it away, but it didn't seem to matter now. Things changed. She'd changed. "Angel bit me. Then he rushed me to the ER, still bleeding. Why didn't he seal me up? Lick me?"_ Oh God. Licking me. I want more Spike licks. _

Spike looked up at her, suppressing a growl. Didn't like to think of Angel sinking his fangs into her. Or licking her. "He probably couldn't risk another taste. He's not brilliant at resisting temptation. Has to distance himself."

"Hm." _Distance over love. And my life._ She regarded the man under her, watched him swallowing hard, breathing hard without the need for air, simply drinking her in.

"I don't want you to think of me like that."

She was so lost in old thoughts, pounding, unsteady hearts, and rushing water, that she couldn't quite make out his words at first.

_Why isn't she speaking?_

"I don't think of you like that. When I think of Angel and you, you two are very different and not on the same page in my head."

_Yeah. First loves. Big shoulders. First one to slide in her sweet little delta and let her waters bathe him. Goddamn poet stuck in a demon._ His heart twisted.

"I like you better than him."

Spike's jaw smacked his chest.

Buffy laughed and inched her hips lower. His sensitive tip touched her tight, hot nub and they both gasped. Water coursed over their legs as she gently rocked, not taking him in, but showing him the door was open. "I think… I trust you more than him, too. Even when you're obnoxious, you're honest. And I can be honest around you, too."

"Brutally so," Spike spoke in a strangled voice as he nodded.

"Bite me. And be in me. And love me. And warm me up."

The jaw became reacquainted with his sternum.

_Manners. _"Please? If you want to? Was that too many things to do at once?"

"Are you insane- no, you're not. Yes, please, and thank you and any other charmin' phrases you can think of. I'll be the master of multitasking for you, Buffy, if that's the kind of list you give. Always and as often as you want, and never more than you want." Laughter bubbled up in him, startled, incredulous laughter.

He was love's bitch. You never saved the day _and _got the girl. He'd tried for over a hundred years.

_Well, yeah. But Hell never froze over before, either._

_To be concluded…_

* * *

Author's End Note: Thank you again to all the awesome readers! If you like erotica, I recently wrote a new short erotica piece, Vampire in Vegas by S.C. Principale. It's still sweet, but it goes into more smutty territory than I usually do here. I'd love it if you guys give it a try! (Free on Amazon Kindle Unlimited, cheap otherwise. Many thanks if you read it!)


	6. Part VI

**Warm **

**By Sweetprincipale**

California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to: Brokenblackrose89, Mistress of Dragons, Pentastic, PGoodrichBoggs, Ardynn, Battered Child, Kayana M, David Fishwick, and Starlight Guardian. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

**Part VI**

Buffy let him bring her to his chest. His lips found hers and blunt teeth broke the skin on her neck in a suckling pull, no punctures, no fangs. He let the rivulets run down into his mouth while her hips spread and widened and ran down on something else.

Oh God. Buffy felt him push her slick walls apart and she fought the urge to sit up. She wanted him in deeper. More. But she needed to keep herself hunched to his lips, her head shielding him from the shower and the scant inches of water that were now fleeing down the drain.

He moaned around the blood in his mouth and brought his pelvis up, sheathing the last two inches in her, feeling her sex split open and leave a wet kiss on his taut sack.

"Yes! Ohhhh, God, yes." Buffy knew he understood her. _Didn't even have to talk. Or make sense. _Today had not made a lot of sense in the conventional fashion, but it had been pretty damn enlightening, anyway.

His color and strength were returning like magic. And so was hers, no longer chalky, no longer sunburnt, simply her normal beautiful color. Was it the end of the spell outside, or the fact that shared blood had somehow saved them both? He would care later. Later, when she wasn't whimpering in pleasure against his chest, digging her nails into his pectorals and grazing his nipples.

"I love you. Oh, fuck, yes, I love when you let me inside. Love when you let me love you," he snarled out, chest reverberating with a happy, lustful growl.

"I-" She didn't love him. She now knew she loved lots of things _about_ him, many that were new and eye opening. But she did love this. This hot, pounding rhythm that was the only pleasurable heat she had felt all day. "I love this, love doing this with you, Spike. Oh, ohhh-" her eyes suddenly widened as she felt herself losing all thoughts, letting only feelings rule. "Oh shit! Spike!"

"Yeah, Baby," he growled, "so fucking hot."

"No, not like that. Well, yes, also that. But you're warm now."

"And that's bad because?"

Her cheeks flushed. "No. Not bad. I was just thinking about something. Our experiment." _That's the one thing I bring up right now? Did I actually ask him if vampire cum was cold? _Recall was met with mental shudders of embarrassment. _Shouldn't have tried to hold onto the thoughts so hard._

He laughed at her pink-cheeked pout. "I'll go back outside and freeze myself all over again if you want."

"No… I don't want that." She bounced on him harder, pout vanishing. He gasped and arched under her, thrusting back against her.

Strength or not, this wasn't working as much as he wanted. He abruptly changed their positions, sitting on the edge of the tub. Buffy's hands raked the shower curtain away so it didn't stick to his back. She rocked happily astride him. "I like when you're warm. You feel better."

"Thought you craved this big, bendy ice pack?" he teased with his voice, he teased with his hands, fingertips finding nipples and rolling them as she arched.

"I mean, you_ feel_ better. You don't hurt. I never…" It was weird. She had hit him reflexively when he couldn't hit back. She had hit him when he was a jerk and annoying, and when he was a deadly, vicious menace. She wished she could take back the ones that he hadn't really deserved. "I hope I never see you hurting again. Ever again."

"Mutual, Pet. But if it's for you… doesn't hurt. I told you that."

"No dice. No more cold Spike."

She was sweet. Blood was sweet, juice was sweet. He could inhale her and the steam made it a thousand times more potent, carried it up and bathed him in the scent. He would live on her delectable juices if he could. Said juices were making her slip against him as she increased her tempo, clinging harder.

This was the real stuff. Wet, messy, losing yourself in the other. Spike made an effort to bring thought to the forefront, telling sensation to give him a moment. "You okay, Buffy?"

She nodded, unspeaking, head coming to rest aside his so he couldn't see her face.

_I don't love him. But… I feel really close to him. Superglue close. He saw me at the worst and weakest. He took such good care of me. Even at the point where it would cost him pain. Pain and maybe permanent damage. _Right then, she wished love came easy. If only love came as easy as this, the awesome pleasure of pounding up and down on him, feeling him rebound into her, every action reciprocated. Equal. Given back.

Her pussy spasmed and her heart did, too, pounding and pulsing as she suddenly moved back to lock her eyes on his. Her fingers dug gently into the nape of his neck and then clamped down, holding him still between kisses.

The pace picked up to clear the last hurdle, as if she could show instead of tell.

"Spike. Spike, you…"

"I'm gonna make you cum. You're gonna burst me. Do I still get to fill you up, Baby?"

Buffy's eyes fluttered shut, mouth trembling slightly. His jaw was clenched and head thrown back, eyes struggling to stay open.

He smiled when they both opened their eyes at the same time, reconnecting. "Gorgeous girl."

"Gorgeous guy," she breathed.

"Your guy, Slayer. All yours, Buffy."

That did it. The superglue connection went supernova. _Mine. Someone to be safe with, to be honest with, and to share with without any crappy expectations. _"Yes, yes, mine. All mine. My Spike." Her walls clenched down. He speared them apart, and she thought she would explode from the fullness, of trying to clamp her walls together and relieve the pressure that had built- only to find that the friction pushed her over the edge.

Spike watched her wail. If that wasn't even hotter than watching her fall over the peak as he worked his fingers and mouth against her, he was a blind man. She fucked like she fought. She would try to get the job done quick and move on -and then love it too much. Have to go all out, nothing held back. Full Slayer.

_I love this Slayer. Fully. Girl. Warrior. I'm done for, was always done for, the moment I met her._

Her wail was followed by a gasp and a torrent of scalding hot juice that made him pop, like the warm champagne someone else had once teased him with.

"Oh. Ohhh. Oh," Buffy sighed and panted as she rode him down, still hard, juices mingling. _We're a mess. A hot, sexy mess. _ "Shower?"

"We're in one," Spike laughed.

"I'm not getting off you. You're still hard."

"If you stay on me as long as I'm hard, you'll be here 'til doomsday. I'll never get soft watching this show."

"Just 'til doomsday, huh? Hmm. I think we pushed that date back a little. Take me for another ride?"

"Wherever you wanna go, Pet."

* * *

It was dark when they got out._ Naturally_ dark. The sun was lowering, and more importantly, they _knew _the sun was sinking, the leaden gray clouds thinning enough to allow weak rays of light.

The phone had thirty-seven missed calls.

The ice on roads and walkways still looked thick and hard as marble flooring.

"Guess she hasn't drank her potion."

"Speaking of drinks, Giles is probably driving a tank while under the influence," Buffy dialed the phone in her bedroom the second Spike dropped her on the bed.

"Look at you." His cock, temporarily semi-sleepy, roared back to life. Her little pussy was pink and puffy, glistening with juices of his pleasure and hers. The back of her thighs were raw from the marathon they'd put each other through. "Gorgeous. Sweet little slit is all-"

"Giles! Stop sobbing, I didn't die! Spike- don't you dare," Buffy snagged his wrist before he could decide to go places some decidedly unchaste kisses on her pouting nether lips.

"I'm not sobbing!" Giles sobbed with relief. "Well, now I might be- I might be a bit emotional. Harhumph. Did Spike have a hard time reviving you?"

"I did give him a pretty rough time in the bathtub, Giles," Buffy answered honestly, a wicked smirk on her face.

From above her, Spike's face twitched in lascivious amusement. He mouthed, "You are so bad."

She smiled back and hissed, "I know. Twinsies, remember?"

"Twin whats? Why is Spike laughing? Surely there's nothing funny about this!"

"Spike is laughing because he's happy. He's happy I'm alive. And we found out we have a lot in common today."

* * *

"He'll call Mom and the girls back. He hasn't been able to get a hold of Anya or Xander, but he's not too worried. Anya hasn't had a spontaneous day off with Xander in a few weeks. They're probably doing what we're doing. All we have to do is wait until the end of this day- which is technically midnight- or until Glory gets thirsty."

"Hm. Hope she's impatient."

"Like you."

I've been good for ten whole minutes." Spike glared pointedly.

"You've been good all day."

"Do I get kisses?"

"You get all the kisses."

He tumbled into bed on top of her and she moaned happily. "You're still nice and warm. I like it."

"You're bloody hot and I love it," he countered, massaging one breast and then running his hand down the length of her torso. "This has been one hell of a day."

"No contest."

He hesitated. " Did you mean all the stuff you said?"

Buffy blushed. "Yeah." _Oh crap. Here it comes. The teasing. The comments about what a dirty girl I am. All meant with affection, though, so I don't know how I feel about that. Or, maybe he'll just want to do some things again._ She had a quick replay of all the supposedly "dirty" acts she'd done, and none of them felt "bad" with him.

"Right. Well. If I remember rightly, after you save the world, you scarper off to LA or parts unknown for a bit of a break. And you mentioned a vacation somewhere cold. We could do the mountains. You wanna do the mountains? They've got ski places somewhere in California, don't they?"

She sat up, stared, and then swung herself firmly atop him, sitting on his chest with her hands on his shoulders. Her face was a hard mask, voice flat.

"Or not," he swallowed. "I guess you'd like to stay put 'cause-"

"Did you ask if we could go on vacation together?"

"_You_ mentioned vacations!" Spike winced, wishing for a rewind button on his life. She didn't specifically mention it with _him_ and his casual attempt at presumption might have cost him dearly.

"With you. And me. Alone. Somewhere cold. But not supernaturally cold."

"With you. And me. Alone. Yes. But it doesn't have to be-" He never got to finish the sentence. She was kissing him, and then kissing her way down to his chest, eyes dancing back up to his. "What are you-"

"Can I borrow this again?" Her hand wrapped around his erection before her lips did.

Warm suction caressed him with surprising expertise. He informed her in a strangled purr, "You can keep it."

* * *

"I can't keep waiting. The sun is down. That's three days' full." Glory paced, eyeing a bubbling concoction in a glowing cup. There was no heat source in it, but it kept going.

"Midnight would be safer."

"Midnight is overkill. I swear, it's losing steam. How long does it keep after she's croaked? Another Slayer'll be called in any minute, you know. We're on multiple deadlines, emphasis on the dead part." The cup had once frothed and churned with raging heat, fires of the Hellmouth being pulled in and burnt out as if stuck in some supernatural vacuum. Around noon, they couldn't even see the chalice through the clouds of steam. Now, it was clearly visible.

"Is it supposed to lose steam?" Jinx hissed to one of the mages in charge of preparations. "How long will the spell remain active once the 'host' is burned out?"

"I don't know. We've never done this. It's human. We've never been with humans before Glorificus entered this realm in Master Ben's form."

"It means it's cooling down! We're crossing the three-day mark in terms of daylight! I'm a day and night kinda girl!" Glory stamped her red stiletto down hard. Below, the stucco ceiling of their stolen mansionette gave way, along with a chandelier.

The mage talked nervously over the almighty crash."There might be other reasons. It may be better to-"

The mage found his lips magically sealed shut. "The only other thing that could be wrong is what? She got better? Not likely, chump. Can I drink it if she's not dead, but dying? Maybe this means she's fading away. I know the feeling. I know what it's like to lose steam." Glory smiled bitterly.

"As long as the infection is in her and you've crossed the three-day mark, which you have," Jinx pointed out cautiously, "it should be safe to consume. She must surely be dead. Or dying." He gave an apologetic grin at the end of his hesitant reassurance.

"Dead or dying. I'll take it. Maybe I can finish her off myself." Glory's fingers closed around the cup. "The only way she could get better would be if she found a demon willing to give her his blood. Not just taken, but _willingly_ bathed her in it. Right? Wasn't that it?"

"That wasn't in the original spell, but I tweaked it. I thought it added an extra measure of security, considering who the Slayer is. Not a single demon in this town would be willing to aid who hunts them. What evil being would be willing to surrender his very life force to the Slayer?" The room rang with laughter, excitement in every glassy black eye. The moment approached, home was on the horizon.

"Okay. Let's do this. You know what they say," Glory gave a deep sigh. "Over the lips, past the gums, look out, world, here she comes," Glory whispered into the smoking depths, and brought the dark, swirling liquid to her lips, not wincing as the scalding fluid cascaded down her throat.

* * *

"What the bloody hell was that?" Spike gathered Buffy protectively to him as rolling thunder shook the houses on Revello Drive to their foundations. Car alarms blared, lights flickered, digital clocks suddenly flashed twelve, though midnight was still hours away.

They sat up together, bodies flushed, limbs tangled in time to see heat lightning arc across the sky, followed by torrential rain coming from clouds that seemed angrily torn asunder. Buffy rolled from his arms and seized his hand to pull him with her to the window. She grunted and fought against the momentary sticking of a frozen pane, then stuck her arm out. "It's warm. It's warm, Spike, it's like a summer rainstorm."

"She drank. She had to have drank it! You were healed, so she drank the condemnation unto herself, as the old ones say. When she offed it, her hold vanished, too. No more ice queen. No more supernatural winter."

"Like that one about the tiger in the closet," Buffy murmured dreamily, drawing her wet arm in and shutting the window softly.

"What?" Spike looked at her in bewilderment. It was getting to be a habit.

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "The evil queen died and then it wasn't winter any more!" Buffy turned to him peevishly. "I had to read it for sixth-grade summer reading. It's an English author, too. You should know him."

"Oh, I do, Luv. It was a lion. In a wardrobe."

"Oh, yeah. Same thing." She complacently tugged him back to bed.

"It isn't." He kissed raindrops off her skin with a sigh.

"Close enough." She snuggled down and he snuggled in behind her.

Only to get elbowed in the ribs and pushed off as she sat up, fanning herself. "It's hot in here. Spike, it's really getting hot in here."

He looked at her nude body. "Been hot in here for hours, Baby." A single dark brow arched and his fingers flexed as he reached for her.

"The heater. The heater was running full blast. It must be ninety in here all of the sudden. It's warm outside." She made her way back to the window. He followed with a groan.

In the street, rivers ran, melted ice mingled with punishing rain. "Mom won't drive home in this," Buffy whispered.

"I hope not, might float off into the ruddy Pacific. You want me to clear off just in case?"

"No!" She turned to him and latched onto his fingers with her own. "Stay- at least until the sun starts to come up?"

"I'll do that."

She shifted her hair off her neck. "We never finished talking about that vacation."

Spike's eyes lit up. "Ski resort. D'you ski?"

"No."

"Good. I don't, either. I don't fancy bein' a pillar of flame on the mountains. Have religious types out in droves, muckin through my ashes."

Even though her first thought was to laugh, the idea of finding Spike's ashes against a frozen backdrop was too painful to consider, even in jest. "Don't talk like that," Buffy hissed, stepping further into his embrace. "Don't talk like that. About you not being here."

"Right. Right, I'll be here for a long time, Luv. A very long time. Anytime you need me."

Buffy nodded briskly. "Good. So. Yeah. It'll be fun. The ski place."

"We can go out at night. See the stars twinklin' against the snow, moonlight on unsullied hills. The kiss of sunset painting a-"_ crimson and orange bouquet on the- oh fucking hell. Stop_. Spike cursed out the sneaking bastard poet that he'd never managed to shake and regarded his bedfellow. She smiled, eyes wide and fairly starry themselves. "Yeah. We could see all that sort of rubbish."

"And in the daytime?"

"Gotta have something to do inside the lodge." He thought of billiard rooms and big screen televisions, bars covered in wood, sweaters, antlers, and people with toothpaste commercial smiles draping themselves about with hot toddies in hand.

"We'd stay overnight. At the lodge?" Buffy asked slowly.

"Not much of a vacation if you don't stop for at least one night. Bet they have a-"

"They have rooms with fireplaces in them. People wear sweaters. Parkas. Furry hats."

Spike chuckled. "I'll avoid the furry hat, thanks."

She ran her fingers up his arm, tips dancing their way past his elbow and kneading his shoulder where they stopped. "I'll get too hot. Slayer during the day. All cooped up. Slayer metabolism..."

"Mmhm." He met her smile with a smirk. "An' all that walkin' about in the snow at night… Well, you saw how it takes it outta me."

"You'll be so cold. You could cool me off?"

"You'll warm me up?"

Buffy swallowed and nodded."I'd love to.. For a very long time. Anytime you need me."

"Kiss on it?" He leaned toward her lips.

"Put it in writing." She pulled him back on top of her while one hand danced clumsily on her nightstand, feeling for a pen.

The End

* * *

Thank you again to all the awesome readers! If you like erotica, I recently wrote a new short erotica piece, _Vampire in Vegas _by S.C. Principale, and the next one _Vampire in Vegas:Quartet_, is coming out on March 1st, 2020. Both are still sweet, but go into more smutty territory than I usually do here. I'd love it if you guys give it a try! (Free on Amazon Kindle Unlimited, cheap otherwise. Many thanks if you read along!)


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